She Came Here With Me Peeta's POV of Hunger Games
by TEGandhersoul
Summary: We all know how Katniss got through the 74th Hunger Games. What about Peeta Mellark? What went on in his mind when his name was called to be District 12's tribute or when he said those fateful words during that interview night?
1. Part One: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I wake up with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. After a few seconds, I remember why I feel it. Today is reaping day. Every child, in every district of Panem from the ages of twelve to eighteen feels this on reaping day, the fear of being reaped and of being taken to the arena with twenty-three other tributes to fight to the death. Some fear it worse than others. My name may only be in five times, but that never stops the increasing tension and fear that builds in my chest.

No longer able to stay still, I sit up, and climb out of bed. I see my brothers' empty beds next to mine. They've probably already gone downstairs to help our father open the bakery. I should probably be down there too, but instead, I walk over to the window. Our bedroom window faces the main square, where you can see the town below. The clock tower in the Justice Building says that it's eight o'clock, six more hours until the reaping. I look down towards the shops and the houses. I can see Mayor Undersee's house next to the Justice Building. I see two figures walking out from the back of his house, a girl and boy from the Seam. I know who they are, especially the girl. Katniss Everdeen. She's in my year, and she trades the squirrels she kills to my father for bread. She's known for sneaking out of District 12, past the fence that supposed to be charged but never is, and hunting for food, to feed her family and to trade. She's known to go into the Hob, District 12's black market to trade what the town market won't take. She's kept her family alive since her father died five years ago. She's known for her strength, for her survival against everything thrown at her, for her spirit.

I've had a crush on her for years. I've tried to find the courage to talk to her, but every time I try, my brain refuses to put a sentence together and any words I can think of seem to stick to my throat. What are you supposed to say to a girl like that? The answer has yet to come to me. I watch her and the boy, Gale Hawthorne, walk across town and toward the Seam. I think of what reaping day must be like for her. How she's been feeding her family, taking tesserae for herself, her mother and her younger sister, Primrose. How many times is her name in? Certainly more than my five. And I'd heard how she refused to let her sister take any tesserae, making sure that her sister's name is in only once. She's protecting her sister, as everyone in this town knows she'd do, but making the odds worse for herself.

I let out a sigh. This is not the kind of thing that I should think about on a day like this. It only makes it worse. I get dressed and head downstairs to the bakery. I help my father and brothers at the ovens for the next few hours. We know that once the reaping is over, we'll get more customers than usual, since everyone celebrates when the reaping is over, that their children have been spared for another year; except for the two families of the children who are called, of course.

At around one, my mother makes us all clean up and get ready to be in the square. She's already laid out our outfits for us, since we're all supposed to dress up and treat this like a celebration, just another way the Capitol shows how much we're in their control. I put on the outfit, comb out my hair, and wash the flour that might have ended up on my face from the bakery. By two o'clock, my parents and my eldest brother, Wheaton are standing with the other spectators, while my brother Rye and I stand in line with the other boys in the roped off area. Rye is with the eighteen-year-old boys, up in the front. This is his last year in the drawing. If he can make it out, that will be two out of three of my parents' children safe. Then there will only be me.

When the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium. As usual, he tells about the history of Panem. How it rose from the ashes of a place once called North America, he lists all the things that ruined North America, from the natural disasters to the brutal war for what was left. That's what became Panem. With the shining Capitol and its thirteen districts, where all was peaceful. Then the Dark Days came, when the districts rebelled and twelve were defeated, the thirteenth destroyed. That's when the Treaty of Treason was written, which, to ensure peace and to remind us that the Dark Days must never be repeated, the Hunger Games were created. The rules are simple. One boy and one girl, called tributes, must go to the Capitol, and be locked in an outdoor arena to fight to the death on live TV. The last tribute standing wins. This is how the Capitol reminds its districts how much power they have, how little chance we have of defeating them in another rebellion. It's both humiliating and torturous for us.  
>"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor recites tonelessly. Then he reads the list of the two victors district twelve has had. Only one is still living. Haymitch Abernathy. In District 12, he's known as the town drunk, drinking himself into a stupor with white liquor.<p>

Just then, Haymitch staggers onto the stage, hollering something unintelligible. You can tell he's very drunk. The crowd gives it's small, respectful applause and he confusedly tries to bear hug Effie Trinket which she just manages to fend off.

You can see the distress on Mayor Undersee's face. District 12, right now, is the laughingstock of the entire country, since all of this is being filmed live. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to Effie Trinket, who trots to the podium in her spring green suit and bright pink hair, gushing out her usual "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be _ever _in your favor." You can see her wig is slightly askew from her encounter with Haymitch as she goes on about what an honor it is to be here, though we all know all she really wants is a promotion to a district with proper victors, not a drunk who tackles you while the whole country is watching. Finally, Effie says "Ladies first!" and she walks over to the glass ball that contains the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand in and pulls out a slip. Everyone draws in a collective breath and in the stillness, you can almost hear everyone's heart beating. She crosses back to the podium and announces the girl's name in a clear voice.

"Primrose Everdeen"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Katniss's sister walks over to the stage. I think of how Katniss had done everything to keep this from happening. I watch as her sister, who's tiny, only twelve years old, walks up to the stage. Her blond hair is braided back and the back of her blouse sticks out, almost like some sort of bird. The blood is drained from her face and she walks up with her hands clenched into fists, taking stiff, small steps to the stage. That's when I hear it. Katniss calling out to her sister.

"Prim!" she says in a strangled cry. "Prim!" the other girls in line make way for her as she walks through the crowd toward her sister. She reaches Primrose just as she's about to mount the steps. With one sweep of her arm, she pushes her behind herself.

"I volunteer!" she says, gasping. "I volunteer as a tribute!"

Something inside me had known Katniss would do this the moment they called her sister's name. That doesn't stop the dread from hitting me. They're going to take her away. No one will stop her from volunteering and there's no way anyone will take her place. In some districts, where winning is a great honor (and happens more often), the volunteering process is complicated. But here, no one volunteers. Not when being a tribute is a death sentence.

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's the small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth the we, um…" she trails off, not sure herself.

"What does it matter?" says the mayor. He's looking at her with a pained expression. No one wants to see this girl go into the arena. "What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward." He says gruffly.

Her sister begins to scream hysterically. She wraps her arms around her sister. "No Katniss! No! You can't go!"

"Prim, Let go!" she says harshly. "Let go!" Just then, Gale Hawthorne pulls Primrose away from her sister. She thrashes in his arms. "Up you go, Catnip." He says in a strained voice. He turns and carries Primrose away from the stage, toward her mother and the other spectators. Katniss turns and climbs the steps to the stage, her face an emotionless mask now.

"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushes. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" she asks.

"Katniss Everdeen"

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

I refuse to applaud. I refuse to applaud as the Capitol takes this girl away to be slaughtered. The girl who's done so much to take care of her family, who has risked everything to save the sister she loves, even though no one can save this girl. I refuse to applaud the death sentence of the girl I love. To my surprise, I am not the only one keeping silent. No one applauds, no one makes a sound. Remaining silent, I life the three fingers of my left hand and press them to my lips, and then I slowly hold them out to her. In our district, it's a final good-bye to someone you thank, someone you admire, someone you love. Everyone has done the same thing. This is the final goodbye to a girl no one can help but admire, for her strength, for her defiance of the Capitol and her refusal to allow her family to die.

The deadpan expression on her face is in danger of breaking at this point, I can see it. Just then, Haymitch staggers across the stage to congratulate her.

"Look at her! Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing an arm around her shoulder "I like her! Lots of…" he pauses to think of a word. "Spunk! More than you!" he lets go of her and walks to the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing at the camera. It seems everyone is being defiant of the Capitol today, Katniss, in her refusal to let her sister go to the arena; the people of District 12, in their silence; and Haymitch in his yelling at the Capitol. I'm almost impressed, when Haymitch falls off the stage just before he can continue. The cameras eagerly turn to him, and for the few minutes the cameras are on him, I watch Katniss close her eyes, tremble a little bit, exhale and open her eyes again; the sadness only showing in them for a minute, before her face is wiped of all emotion.

As Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, Effie Trinket tries to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbles as she tries to straighten her wig, which is now tilting severely to the right. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" With that, she plants her hand on her wig, trying, still, to fix it, and walks over to the ball that contains all the boys' names. I watch Katniss on the stage, thinking of how I'll try to say goodbye to her in the Justice Building, when Effie Trinket calls District 12's boy tribute….

"Peeta Mellark"

My stomach drops at the sound of my name. My heart begins to pound in my chest, beating against my ribs. I take a deep breath, trying to control my emotions as I make my way to the stage. Katniss is looking at me; the only sign of emotion is in her gray eyes. There's recognition, sadness, and something else, pity maybe, as she sees me walking to the stage. When I climb the steps and stand next to her, Effie Trinket asks for volunteers. Of course no one volunteers for me. No one is brave enough to do what Katniss did. I don't blame them though; few are as brave as she is. The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point. But I'm not listening. She recognizes me. We've never spoken though. I've never been brave enough to even approach her. But there was one interaction we had, years ago. Until now, I figured she'd forgotten it. I never have though, and it looks like that will be the only connection we had…

It was three months after her father had died in a mining accident. I'd seen her at school. The sadness, the pain of his death, was always visible on her face. But after about a month I saw something else. She was getting thinner each day, almost haggard. Her cheekbones began to stand out more prominently. There was more going on at home that she would ever purposely let on. On the day it happened, it was raining relentlessly. I was in the bakery with my mother; my father had gone out to the train station to buy supplies from a train coming in from District 11. My mother went outside to yell at a Seam kid going through our trash. My father hates it when my mother yells at them, and I understand why. It's not their fault that they're starving and going through our trash to look for something. I looked beyond my mother to see who she was yelling at, hoping I didn't know them. That's when I saw her. She was soaking wet and shivering. Her hair was plastered to her face by the rain and she shrank at my mother's threats. She was thinner than I'd ever seen her and pale from the cold. She replaced the lid on the trash bin and walked away. I watched through the back window as she walked to the apple tree by our pig pen and leaned on it, sinking to her knees after a second. It was her under that tree, curled inward, with her head in her knees that showed how much she had given up; how she had given up hope of not only finding food for her mother and sister, but of surviving. That's when I was suddenly scared of her dying.

Starvation's not an uncommon occurrence in District 12. It usually happens to children in the Seam, or people who can't work anymore. I'd see it all the time at school. One day, the bone thin Seam kid would be at school, the next they wouldn't and we'd eventually hear about how the Peacekeepers were called to retrieve the body. I didn't want this to happen to her. Even then, I had a crush on her. I wanted to find a way to talk to her. I still wanted her to know how much of an effect she'd had on me, even then.

In the bakery, there were two loaves of bread ready to be put in the oven. If I could do this right, the bread would still be edible, only burnt on the outside. When my mother wasn't looking, I dropped both loaves in the fire, watching the outsides turn black in seconds, and then pulled them out as quickly as I could. As I was pulling out the second loaf, my mother saw what had happened and began to yell at me. She hit me with a wooden spoon, the handle hitting my cheek the hardest. I could feel the burning where it hit me. I walked outside with the loaves of bread in my hands. I was afraid of what my mother would've done to me if I had thrown the bread to Katniss in front of her. And that would've gotten Katniss in trouble as well. My mother stood at the door watching me.

"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

I began to tear off small chunks and throw them to the pig. I could feel Katniss watching me, but I didn't look at her. I heard the bell ring in the front and my mother turned to go help the customer. I checked that the coast was clear and I threw the bread to her, one after the other. Without looking at her, I walked back into the bakery. When I looked out the window, both she and the bread were gone.

The next day was bright and warm; the sun was shining, barely interrupted by the small, fluffy white clouds passing by. I saw Katniss at school, but I was still too nervous to say anything to her. She was still bone thin, but her face was flushed, and with her hair and clothes dry and a certain brightness in her eyes, she didn't look as in danger of starving to death as she had before. I saw her in the hallway, but I quickly looked away, hoping she hadn't seen me. At the end of the day, I watched her from the school yard, hoping to catch her eye. When her eyes met mine, I turned my head away, unable to think of anything else. When I looked back, she was picking a dandelion out of the grass. When her sister found her, they began to walk toward the Seam, Katniss looking determined as she sped home.

Over the past five years, I've tried to think of something to say, think of some way to talk to her, but that never seemed to come up. More than once she's caught me looking at her, but I'd quickly look away. Now it seems like that was the only chance I had to act on how I feel. Because there's no point in telling the girl you love how you feel when she might have to be the one to kill you. So now, she'll never know.

The mayor finishes reading the Treaty of Treason and motions for Katniss and me to shake hands. Her hands are thin, but strong. I look her in the eye this time and give her hand a slight squeeze, mentally wishing her luck. We turn to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays and I think of how the odds are not in my favor. But I know that the odds will be in hers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When the anthem ends, we're taken into custody by the Peacekeepers and marched through the Justice Building. Once inside, they take me into a room, and I'm left alone. I sit on the velvet couch and take a few deep breaths. This is the time they give the tributes a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones. For a moment, I wonder how many people will say goodbye to Katniss; probably quite a few. Just then, my parents and my brothers enter the room.

My mother and father both sit on the couch next to me, my brothers leaning against the wall nearby. We sit in silence for awhile, not sure what to say. The chances of me being called were slim, yes, but not impossible. My parents had been more worried about Rye being called, since his name was in seven times this year. Still, this kind of thing happens from time to time. We all know there's no way I'm going to win these games. No way I'm going to come home. This really will be the last time I see my family, my home. The next time I'll be here, it will be as a corpse bought back from the Capitol in a box. I've grown up seeing those boxes being brought in from the train station, being taken down to the graveyard nearby to be buried. They're always kept closed. Even during the funerals. So this will be the last time my family sees me, alive. I think it's better this way, for their last memory to be this, of me alive and actually able to be with them.

My mother turns to me and hugs me. When she lets go, she speaks. "Maybe this year, District 12 will have a winner." She says.

_Yes, maybe_. I think to myself. _But it just won't be me._

As if my mother heard me, she says "She's a survivor that one."

Even my own mother knows how low my chances are. Even though I knew this, it doesn't help to hear it from her.

"She is." I answer almost inaudibly. She hugs me again, and so do each of my brothers and my father. As the Peacekeepers come in to let my family know that their time is up, my mother kisses me on the forehead and turns to leave.

"I love you." I say to their retreating figures. But I'm not sure they hear me.

I stay on the couch, waiting in the silence, still waiting. Another hour passes, with some of my friends from school coming in to say goodbye. The whole time, my throat was tight with trying to hold back tears. When they leave, I take a deep breath, trying to somewhat compose myself. That's when the Peacekeepers tell me I have another visitor. I think it's going to be more of my friends from school when I look up. It's Primrose Everdeen. Katniss's sister. What is she doing here?

Her cheeks are stained with dried tears, but the look on her face is one of determination. She stands there facing me for a moment, and then she speaks.

"I want my sister to come home. I _need_ her to come home." She says. "But if she…" her voice catches for a moment. "If she can't, I want you to try to win. For her." She finishes.

"I don't think that can happen." I say.

"Try." She says almost forcefully. I look up at her, surprised at the way she spoke. In appearance, she could almost be my sister; same blonde hair, same blue eyes. But it's the way she stands in front of me, looking me right in the eye, with that determined expression on her face that shows how much like her sister she is. I think of how she had walked up to the stage when her name was called. How, with her fists clenched, she took small, steady steps up to it. How she remained silent. How girls twice her size and three, four, five years older than her, have screamed, broken down crying at their names being called. It was only when her sister volunteered for her that she cried out. In those moments you could see how very much like her sister she is. I find myself answering her.

"I'll try." I say to her.

"Thank you."

"But what if it comes down to the two of us?" I ask without thinking.

It's happened before, the last two competitors being from the same district. It usually happens with the Careers, most often District 2. It always seems like the bloodiest, most gruesome kind of confrontation. But that might just be because I always wonder what the winner will face when they return home to their district. When they see the family of someone they knew, someone they'd killed.

"I don't think you could kill her." She says to me. I look up at her, shocked. Does she know? I think of all the times she and her sister had come to the bakery to look at the cakes on the display window. How I would sometimes have my eyes trained on Katniss, quickly looking away if she saw me. But maybe her sister noticed me looking at her. I never heard her say anything if she had. Before I can ask her, the Peacekeepers come in to tell her that her time is up. She turns without a word and leaves, with the Peacekeepers trailing behind her.

I feel the tears burn behind my eyes, and there's nothing I can do to stop them from falling. Her coming in to speak to me was the thing that did it. It had been building up, of course, but it was her that did it. This is all too much. I'm being taken to the Capitol to die for the people's entertainment. Not only that, but the girl I love, too. And there is nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can do. But I said I'd try. And I would've tried anyway. I just don't think I'll be getting very far. My death will happen long before things get interesting. That won't stop me from trying, at least. But what if I _do_ run into Katniss? What if she's the one who has to kill me? I can't think of an answer. I don't want to.

When the Peacekeepers come in to take me away, I quickly try to wipe the tears from my face. They'll see it anyway, so I stop. I suddenly don't care if they see me cry. We take a short car ride to the train station, where it's swarming with reporters. I see how we look on the screens nearby. I look slightly red-eyed. Katniss looks almost bored. But I know she's not. No one who does what she has just done, can be bored. But she's definitely good at hiding it. We stand for a few minutes in the doorway while the cameras gobble up our images, then we're allowed inside and the doors close behind us. The train begins to move at once.

We're riding one of the fast Capitol trains that will get us there in less than a day. We are each given our own chambers that have a bedroom, a dressing area, and a bathroom. The drawers are filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket tells me to do anything I want, wear anything I want and just make sure to be ready for supper in an hour.

When I go to the dining room for supper an hour later, I'm alone, waiting for Effie and Katniss. From what I heard, Haymitch had gone to take a nap. When Katniss walks in with Effie Trinket, I notice that she's changed out of the blue dress she wore at the reaping, and into a dark green shirt and pants. She's also wearing a small, circular gold pin in the shape of a bird on her shirt. I wonder where she got it, since I've never seen her wear it before.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie Trinket asks brightly.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap." I answer.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day." She almost sounds relieved that he's not here. Then again, who can blame her?

The supper they serve comes in courses, a carrot soup, a green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Effie Trinket keeps reminding us to save space because there's more to come. But I'm not really listening too intently to her. I've always had enough to eat at home, but that's usually made up of stale bread that we can't sell anymore. All of this is the best food I've ever tasted.

"At least you two have decent manners," says Effie as we finish the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I can't help but think that's a little unfair, since the kids last year were both from the Seam, and probably never had enough to eat a day in their lives. Effie's comment seems to have more of an effect on Katniss, an angry crease forms between her eyebrows and she defiantly eats the rest of the meal with her fingers, wiping her hands with the tablecloth. I almost want to laugh at the way she does it and the way it makes Effie purse her lips tightly together. Now that the meal's over, I'm trying to keep the food down. I can see Katniss looks a little green too. Neither of us is used to food this rich. But I'm determined to hold it down.

We're led into another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. One by one, we watch the names being called, the volunteers stepping forward, or more often, not. We examine the faces of our future competition. A few stand out, in my mind. A blonde girl from District 1, a monstrous-looking boy from District 2, a sly-faced girl with striking red hair from District 5, a boy with a crippled foot from District 10, a boy with a build like an ox from District 11, and a tiny girl from the same district. The little girl seems to have the biggest effect on Katniss and I think I know why. Even though the girl has dark brown skin and eyes, the way she stands and her size are very much like her little sister's. Only, no one takes this little girl's place when she stands on the stage and they ask for volunteers. Then they show District 12. Her sister being called and Katniss taking her place; you can hear the desperation in her voice as she shoves her sister behind her. They show her friend, Gale Hawthorne, taking her sister away as Katniss mounts the stage. The commentators are confused as to why District 12 didn't applaud when she took to the stage. One guesses that District 12 is a bit backwards, but charming. Of course they'll excuse the gesture and the lack of applause. These are just games for them. Then we watch Haymitch yell at the camera and fall off the stage. We watch my name be called, me quietly taking the stage, Katniss and I shaking hands, and then they cut to the anthem and the program ends. Effie complains a lot about how her wig looked on camera.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I can't help but laugh. We're being taken into an arena to die for people's entertainment, and all Effie can worry about is her hair and how Haymitch, our town's drunkard, presents himself on TV. "He was drunk" I say. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds smirking. Effie obviously does not find the humor we see in her comment. "Yes." she hisses. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he says in a slurred voice. Then he vomits onto the carpet and falls into the mess.

"So laugh away!" says Effie. And she hops in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and leaves the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

For a few moments, Katniss and I take in the scene of our mentor trying to get up out of his own vomit. The reek of it mixed with raw spirits makes me feel like my dinner might make a reappearance. We exchange a glance and come to a silent agreement. Haymitch may not be much, but Effie Trinket is right, he's all we've got once we're in the arena. With that, Katniss and I each take one of Haymitch's arms and help him to his feet.

"I tripped?" Haymitch asks. "Smells bad." He wipes his hand on his nose, smearing his face with vomit.

"Let's get you back to your room. Clean you up a bit." I tell him.

We half-lead, half-carry him back to his compartment and since we can't exactly set him down on the bed without messing it up with vomit, we haul him to the bathtub and turn the shower on him. I don't think he really notices. I turn to Katniss. "It's okay. I'll take it from here." She looks relieved at not having to face giving Haymitch a shower, which would probably be even more awkward for her than it is for me.

"All right." She says. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No. I don't want them." Right now, I've seen enough people from the Capitol and I don't want to be around anymore of them, to have to stand the sight of them. She backs quietly out of the room at my answer. I spend the next half hour cleaning all the vomit off of Haymitch's face and chest. When that's done, I help him over to his bed and leave him there where he starts snoring within seconds.

I walk back to my compartment and sit on the edge of my bed. I look out the window and stare out at the blur of the passing landscape. Once we stop for fuel. Then we're on our way again. After awhile I begin to think about my family back home. How they would've had more business than usual after the reapings. I wonder if they would've closed their shutters the way most families whose children are reaped do after they closed up. Maybe they closed up early. I doubt it. I don't doubt that my family loves me, in the way a family cares for one another, but I know that they will eventually move on once I'm dead. Watching my death will be painful, but once it happens (and we all know it will), they'll bury me, mourn for awhile, and then move on. Not like Katniss's family. They need her, and her death will not be something they will completely heal from. For a moment, I think of her family. How _they_ will have closed their shutters, maybe even not been able to eat supper that night from the fear of losing her. This is why I want her to win. I know she can, and anyone who's seen her, who knows her, knows she can.

I take a deep breath and lay back onto the bed. I guess now could be the appropriate time to cry out without anyone knowing. To say my own goodbyes to my family, to my life in District 12, but I don't cry. So I end up just staring at the ceiling, letting myself drift off to sleep.

I wake to the grayish light of early dawn and Effie Trinket's voice outside my door telling me to wake up and that today is going to be a "Big, big, big day!". Before I leave the room, I change out of my old clothes and put on the first things my hands touch in the drawers. I end up in a pair of pants and a dark blue shirt. When I reach the dining room, Haymitch is at the table, his eyes bloodshot from a night of drinking. Effie comes in, takes in the sight of Haymitch and mumbles something about needing a coffee. As she gets her cup, she mumbles obscenities under her breath, which only makes Haymitch laugh. Katniss comes into the car a moment later, wearing what she wore yesterday, the gold pin still clasped to her shirt. The color suits her and makes me think of how she sneaks into the forest outside of twelve. It makes me wonder what she's like in the forest; with the light filtering greenly through the leaves of the trees and glinting off her dark hair. Maybe she smiles, something she never does in school, in the District. It's definitely the best place I can imagine her in.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch says to her as I take a roll from the basket that's been placed on the table. After the Capitol attendants place the food and drinks in front of us, Katniss begins to take in everything. I notice her eyeing the hot chocolate, which seems to be as new to her as it is to me.

"They call it hot chocolate." I tell her. "It's good." She takes a sip of it and seems to like it. We eat in silence after that.

After breakfast, Katniss speaks up. "So you're supposed to give us advice." She says to Haymitch. The look in her eyes says that she despises him.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." He answers and then bursts out laughing. I can see why she despises him, and I realize I hate him too. He's part of the reason that District 12 never gets very far in the Games. He's part of the reason our chances are so low. Katniss looks at me for a moment, but then her eyes quickly dart away.

"That's very funny." I say to Haymitch, trying to control my anger. I slap the drink from his hands and it shatters to the floor. "Only not to us."

Haymitch considers this for a moment, and then punches me in the jaw, knocking me out of my chair. As he turns to reach for the spirits, I hear a clatter and see that Katniss has driven a knife between the spaces in his fingers, barely missing him. Haymitch leans back and squints at us. "Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" he says. I rise from the floor and scoop up a handful of ice from the tureen of fruit to put on the place where Haymitch punched me, but he stops me. "No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed with another tribute before you've made it to the arena." He says.

"That's against the rules."

"Only if they catch you. The bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." He turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?" As an answer, she pulls the knife out of the table, gets a grip on the blade and throws it at the wall across the room. The blade sticks, going in about a quarter of the way into the wall.

"Stand over there, both of you." He orders us. We obey and he circles us, prodding at us, checking our muscles, examining our faces. Finally he speaks. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." Neither of us questions it. The Hunger Games aren't exactly a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always pull in the most sponsors.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," says Haymitch. "But you have to do exactly what I say."

It's not much, but still something better than what we had ten minutes ago when we had no guide at all. I still hate him though, and I don't trust him. "Fine." I answer.

"So help us." Says Katniss. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." Says Haymitch, cutting her off.

"But-" she begins.

"No buts. Don't resist," he says. He takes his bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights on inside, but outside its pitch black. We must be in the tunnel that runs through the mountains to the Capitol. We've learned in history class that the mountains form a barrier from the Capitol and the eastern districts. This barrier was a major factor in the districts losing the war that made us tributes today, since the rebels had to scale the mountain and were vulnerable to the Capitol's air forces.

Katniss and I stand in silence as the train speeds on. Finally, the train begins to slow and sunlight suddenly floods into the compartment. We both run to the window to see the Capitol, something we've only seen on television. The cameras haven't lied about its grandeur. If anything, they didn't quite capture it exactly. The glistening buildings in a rainbow of color that tower above, the glittering cars that roll down the wide streets, the strangely dressed people with their faces painted. The colors are vibrant, but artificial-looking. It all paints the picture of the extravagant, rich ruling city of Panem.

The people begin to point at us eagerly as they see our train rolling in. Katniss steps away, looking disgusted at the crowds, but I stay by the window, smiling and waving at the gawking people. I only stop when the train pulls into the station, blocking them from view. I feel Katniss staring at me, so I shrug, trying to show my intentions as harmless. "Who knows?" I say. "One of them may be rich."

Instead of reassuring her, my comment makes her gray eyes harden into steel. She doesn't trust me and she knows that one of us will have to die. And she won't let it be her. Already, she's fighting to kill me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I've been in the remake center for the last two hours as the three people on my prep team have been remaking me by making me bathe in a gritty loam that has removed all the dirt on me as well as at least four layers of skin, leaving me a raw-pinkish color. They've also made me bathe in three different solutions, ripped any chest hair I might have had off me, and shaved my face, giving me a small mint-green pill afterwards. Now, I'm having my hair trimmed, combed and lathered in what I think is now the fifth hair product, by a woman named Khione, who has dyed her skin icy blue, ringed her eyebrows with sapphires, and dyed her hair snow-white, making her look as if she was left out in the snow a little too long. As much as I feel tingly, vulnerable, and, to be honest, ridiculous, I've done what Haymitch told me to, and kept quiet the whole time.

"You're doing very well." Says Calida, a woman with blood-red hair, eyeliner and lipstick with curly red tattoos on her chest of the same color, making her look as if someone cut the designs into her chest with a thin knife. "If there's one thing that irritates me, it's a whiny boy." She finishes. Then she and Gaius- a man with spring-green hair, emerald green lipstick, eyeliner, and unless I'm seeing things, pointed ears and leaf patterns cut into his arms and up his neck, ending at his cheeks- begin to rub me down with a lotion that stings at first, but soon soothes the tingling the loam and solutions left my skin with and I notice I'm not as pink anymore. At least it's something.

When they're done, they pull me from the table I was sitting at, remove the robe I had been allowed to wear and make me stand completely naked while they circle me, fixing anything they might have missed. In a normal circumstance, I would be self-conscious standing naked in front of three people like this, but they're just so strange in appearance, that I don't feel self-conscious at all. When they're done, they step back to admire their work.

"Wonderful! Now you almost look like a human being!" gushes Khione and they all laugh. I fake a laugh to make them think I'm okay with all of this; comfortable with it. "Thank you. We don't really have much reason to look good in District 12" I say to them. I've always been good with people and it hasn't taken me long to figure out what will flatter the prep team. Their favorite subject, of course: themselves.

They all beam at my comment. "Of course you haven't." says Calida with a sigh of pity.

"But don't worry. Once Portia's through with you, you'll be the most handsome boy from District 12 they've ever had!" says Khione. "Now that we've gotten rid of all the filth and hair on you."

"Let's call Portia." Says Gaius. With that, they dart out of the room. I had expected my prep team to be a lot easier to hate, maybe expected them to be like Effie Trinket, constantly yammering excitedly about the Games in a way the makes the people of the Districts sick. But they're just not very bright. Not mean or cruel, just dim. And they seem to be sincerely trying to help me. Well, whatever makes them happy, I suppose.

I continue to stand waiting, resisting the urge to look for my robe, since I'm pretty sure that this Portia woman will just make me take it off again. Finally, the door opens and a young woman who must be Portia walks in. It surprises me how normal-looking she is. Most of the stylists seen on the interviews are so surgically altered and stenciled that it's freakish. But Portia's only changes to her appearance are her long, straight platinum blonde hair, which has obviously been dyed that color, and the lightly applied snow-white eyeliner that brings out the emerald-green hue in her eyes. She's wearing a simple outfit of a black shirt and black pants. Despite my disdain for Capitol and their hideous fashions and freakish alterations, I can't help but notice how attractive she looks.

"Hello, Peeta. I'm Portia. You're stylist." She says in a high, soft voice.

"Hello." I answer politely.

"One moment, please." She says and she walks around me, not touching me but studying every inch of me with her eyes. I resist the urge to attempt to cover myself.

"Alright then." She says after she's done inspecting me.

Portia is not at all what I expected. I had expected someone like what I've seen over the years. Someone flamboyant, someone older trying to look younger, someone who viewed me as some sort of lapdog to be shown off to the public, Portia is none of these things. I also realize something else.

"Are you new to the Games? I don't think I've seen you before." I ask, since she's an unfamiliar face among the familiar stylists that have been on television my whole life.

"Yes, this is my first year in the Games." She answers.

"So they gave you District 12?" Since we tend to be the least desirable district, newcomers end up with us.

"We asked for Twelve." She says with no further explanation. "Why don't you put your robe on and we'll have a chat."

I pull on my robe and follow her through a door into a sitting room. Two beige couches face off over a low table. Three of the walls are blank and the fourth wall is made entirely of glass, giving a spectacular view of the city, with the midday sun shining off the candy-colored buildings. Portia invites me to sit on one of the couches and takes her place in front of me. She presses a button on the side of the table, making food rise up from the center of it. Chicken and pieces of orange in a creamy sauce sit atop a bed of white rice, tiny peas and onions, rolls baked into the shape of flowers and for dessert, a honey-colored pudding. I think of how easily this food came up, and how this kind of food is never seen in District 12, even for the people in town. How easy it must be for the people in the Capitol to get food. I wonder what they do all day, besides constantly decorating themselves with tattoos and dyes and waiting for the next Games to begin, if they never have to work or scrounge for food.

After a minute, I realize Portia's been watching me. "We must seem awful to you. Don't we?" she asks. I want to deny it, to be polite, but I realize she's right. They have all this food and luxury and so much free time to sit around and constantly alter themselves and watch the Games without fear, while people back home barely get by, while some starve to death. The image of Katniss soaking wet, pale and starving flashes in my mind, and I hate these people. Hate them for letting both images: the shiny, rich Capitol with all its splendor, and Katniss malnourished and shivering in the rain, exist in the same world, without doing anything to fix it. They truly are awful, so I keep silent.

"No matter," she continues softly after my silence. "Now, about your costume for the opening ceremonies, Peeta. My partner, Cinna, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Katniss. And we decided to put you both in complementary costumes." She says. "As you know, the usual tradition is to dress the tributes in an outfit reflecting the flavor of the district."

The tributes are always dressed in something representing their industry, District 12 wearing something to represent coal mining. Usually, the tributes are dressed in some awful-looking coal miner's getup or, like one year, they're stark naked covered in black powder to look like coal dust. No one likes it, not even the ridiculously fashioned people of the Capitol. I brace myself for what Portia's idea is.

"So I'll be in a coal miner's outfit?" I ask, trying to hide my dislike at the idea.

"No, not exactly, Cinna and I think that idea has been far overdone. We want you two to look memorable and no one will remember you in that."

_I'm going to be sent out there naked._ I think, cringing internally at the idea already, thinking of how Katniss will be out there as well. I try to keep my face from going red while Portia continues. "So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're focusing on the coal. And what do we do with coal? We burn it." Portia takes in my expression at her words. "You're not afraid of fire, I hope, are you Peeta?" she says.

A few hours later I'm dressed in what will either be the most spectacular thing anyone's ever put me in, or the last thing I'll ever wear. It's a simple outfit, a black unitard that covers me from ankle to neck with black leather boots that lace up to my knees. The things that stand out in the outfit are the cape made up of streams red, orange, and yellow fabric and the matching headdress. Portia and Cinna plan to light them on fire before the chariots roll out onto the streets outside.

"It's not real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe." Cinna, Katniss's stylist, tells us. Though I'm not entirely convinced that I won't be roasted alive by the time we reach the Training Center.

Thankfully, the prep team didn't cover me in make-up as I've seen them do to other male tributes in the past. In the end, they only put on a powder to keep the lights from the city and the flames from washing me out. Better than being painted so many colors, I'm unrecognizable. My hair was styled simply, so other than being lit on fire, I'm going to look how I normally do.

Portia and my prep team lead me out to the chariot where Katniss and her stylist and prep team are waiting. She's dressed in a similar outfit as mine. Her hair's been braided back and she's wearing a little bit of make-up. Only enough to highlight what was already there. Her eyes, which are lightly ringed with black kohl that make her gray eyes look almost silver, show relief. Maybe she's just glad that she won't be the only one lit on fire. We meet up, and our prep teams gush in excitement over what a splash we'll be making in the opening ceremonies. Portia and Cinna stay detached from it all, Cinna looking almost weary when they offer congratulations.

We're whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, where they hold all the horses and chariots. The tributes from each of the districts are being loaded into their respective chariot that is each pulled by four horses. District 12's horses are coal black. Cinna and Portia direct us into the chariot and carefully arrange our capes and our body positions before moving off to consult with each other. When they're out of earshot, Katniss turns to me. "What do you think? About the fire?" she asks.

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine." I say through gritted teeth, trying to hide my nervousness at the whole situation.

"Deal." She answers. Hopefully we can get them off before the worst burns happen. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle." She says, sounding a little exasperated.

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?"

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame." She says with a tiny smirk on her lips.

And suddenly we're both laughing. Maybe it's the stress of the situation and the Games that makes us not act sensibly. Her laughing is a nice sound, though, and actually makes this whole thing a little more bearable, and I relax a little as the opening music begins to play. The massive doors in front open to the crowd-lined streets. The ride is a twenty minute parade to the Training Center where they play the anthem and escort us to where we'll stay until the Games begin.

The tributes of District 1, spray-painted silver and wearing bejeweled tunics, roll out onto the street. The crowd lets out a cheer. They're always crowd favorites. Then District 2 gets into position to follow them. Soon, we're getting into position to roll out. I can see the sky has turned overcast and evening is beginning to fall around the city. The tributes from District 11 are just rolling out as Cinna climbs up before us with a lighted torch. "Here we go then." he says, and before either of us can react, he lights our capes and headdresses on fire. I gasp involuntarily, waiting to feel the burns, but there is only a faint tickle. Cinna lets out a sigh of relief. "It works." Then he gently lifts Katniss's chin up.

"Remember, heads held high. Smiles. They're going to love you." He tells her. I feel a slight twinge of jealousy at the way Cinna speaks to her, touches her, but it's gone as quickly as it came. With that, he jumps off the chariot and has one last idea. He shouts something to us, but the music drowns him out. He shouts again and gestures. He wants us to hold hands.

"What's he saying?" asks Katniss. She turns to me and I get my first real look at her. She's beyond beautiful. Her beauty's something wild. Something only found beyond civilization. The flames embrace her, looking like they're a part of her, as if she's a creature of fire. Her eyes reflect the flames, looking almost white in the lighting. Her eyes widen when she looks at me, making me wonder how I look. Certainly, nothing as good as she looks. After a moment, I find my voice. "I think he said for us to hold hands." I find myself hoping that she'll go with what Cinna asked. Without waiting for an answer, I take her right hand in my left and we look to Cinna for confirmation. He nods and gives us a thumbs-up as we ride out into the city.

The crowd's initial alarm turns to cheers and shouts of "District Twelve!" Everyone is looking at us, pulling focus from three districts ahead of us. I catch sight of us on a television screen. I look spectacular, the flames curling around me like they do with Katniss, but I'm nowhere near as breathtaking as she is. Dusk is falling around us and the flames illuminate our faces. Katniss saw us on the screen as well and after a moment, she lifts her chin a bit higher and smiles widely, waving at the crowd with her free hand. She even begins to blow kisses to them, which makes them go nuts. They try to catch her kisses, as if they are actual things. They begin to throw flowers at us and shout our names, our first names. But I know that they are looking at Katniss. And who wouldn't? Our fire costumes have done more than just make her look beautiful; they've given the Capitol a glimpse of the spirit the people back home admire her for. Cinna has made her unforgettable.

As we enter the city circle, Katniss looks down at our hands, loosening her grip on mine. I squeeze her fingers a little bit, trying to keep her hand a little longer. "No, don't let go of me," I realize my want to hold her hand might confuse her, so I give her a reason that's still true, but less serious. "Please. I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay." She says, and her grip tightens on me. I like the way her hand feels in mine, even though I know that it won't last. That she'll soon see me as an enemy, that she might already see me as an enemy. I try not to think about it though, and just focus on the way her hand feels in mine. Warm and a little bit soft, but strong.

The twelve chariots fill the loop around the City Circle. Our horses pull us right up to President Snow's mansion and we come to a halt. The music ends. The president, a small, a thin man with bone-white hair, gives the official welcome from the balcony above. It's traditional to cut away to the faces of each of the tributes during the speech. But I notice that Katniss and I are getting far more than the usual amount of airtime. As night falls around us, the cameras focus on our flickering forms more and more. When the anthem plays again, they make an effort to cut away to each of the tributes, but the cameras linger on District 12 as the chariots circle once more around the City Circle and go into the Training Center. The doors have only just shut behind us when the prep teams bombard us and babble out their praise. I can see the other tributes giving us dirty looks. It's obvious that we have outshone them all. Portia and Cinna are there and they help us down from the chariot, carefully removing our capes and headdresses. Portia extinguishes them using a spray from a canister. After a few minutes, Katniss begins to loosen her fingers from my hand. When she lets go, we both massage our hands, having gripped the other tightly the whole ride (not that I minded).

"Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there." I tell her, feeling a little nervous speaking to her.

"It didn't show." She says. "I'm sure no one noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often, they suit you." I say, smiling slightly, my stomach feeling like it jumped ten feet. Her face seems to soften a little and I think she almost smiles again. Then she stands on tiptoe and kisses me on the cheek, right on my bruise from Haymitch. As she walks away, I look down, hoping no one sees me turning red.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

We're lead through the Training Center toward the elevators that lead to the tower for the tributes and their teams. This will be our home until the actual Games begin. Each district has an entire floor. All you have to do is step onto the elevator and press the number of your district. I rode an elevator yesterday when the Peacekeepers took me to the Justice Building to say goodbye to my friends and family, but it was a dark, creaky thing that moved slower than a snail and smelled strongly of mildew. This elevator has crystal walls that allow you to see the city disappearing below you as you shoot up to your floor. My breath catches as we ride up and I want to ask if we can ride again, but that seems a little immature. While we're riding up to our floor, Effie compliments us not only on our costumes, but how we conducted ourselves. Apparently, she's been talking us up to everyone she knows here in the Capitol to win us sponsors.

"I've been very mysterious, though." She says. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

Barbarism? Really? Coming from the woman who is helping us prepare to be slaughtered in a few days time that seems a little ironic. And where exactly is our "success" coming from? That we know how to use a spoon and a fork? She continues despite our confused looks.

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal, it turns to pearls!'" Effie beams at us so brightly that we only can respond enthusiastically to her cleverness, even though it's wrong.

Coal doesn't turn into pearls, pearls grow in shellfish. She might have meant that coal turns into diamonds, but that might not be true either, because we were taught in school that District 1 has a machine that can turn graphite into diamonds. But we don't mine graphite. That's what District 13 did until they were destroyed. I can't help but wonder if the people who Effie's been talking us up to all day know that, or care. Maybe they don't, they've got Games to watch.

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," says Effie grimly. "But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

I'll give Effie credit; she has a certain determination that's respectable.

My quarters are larger than the upper half of the bakery back home, entirely high tech, and plush. I don't think I'll have time to push all the buttons. I decide to take a shower and quickly learn that it won't be an easy thing. There's over a hundred buttons on the control panel that regulate water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. I end up pressing buttons at random and being pelted with alternating jets of icy and burning water, then being assaulted with oil that smells strongly of roses. When the attack from my shower is over, I step onto a mat that blow-dries my body.

I program the closet for an outfit to my taste and decide to further mess with the gadgets here in the quarters. I learn that the windows zoom in and out on various parts of the city, I try to capture the image of the city in my mind, liking the way it shines at night. The city outside makes me wish to be outdoors, even though I know that can't happen. I end up leaving the room anyway. I explore the rest of the floor, growing more and more restless. A few moments later, Cinna walks out of his room and sees me.

"Hello, Peeta" he says politely.

"Hello."

"How are you faring here?"

"It's very nice here." I answer, even though I'd rather be anywhere else in the world than here. The reminder of the imminent Games and what it means for me make me even more restless. "I wish I could go outside, though." I say laughing a little, trying to play it off as a joke, in case I'm being recorded.

"Well, actually, there is a place you can go." Says Cinna.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes. Follow me." He turns and leads me to a flight of stairs that end up leading to the rooftop. The wind whistles at higher volume than on the ground below. One side of the dome has been turned into a garden, with flower beds and potted trees everywhere. Hundreds of wind chimes have been hung on the branches of the trees, adding a tinkling sound to the whistle of the wind. It's a nice place to be, a place that almost seems like it would be unable to exist in the Capitol. The calm of it makes me think of District 12, a place that was safe for me. This place almost seems too safe considering where I am.

"Aren't they afraid of tributes jumping over the edge?" I ask Cinna.

"They can't," he says and he walks over to the edge of the rooftop and stretches his hand out, but he quickly jerks it back. "There's some sort of force field there. It'll just send whatever is thrown over back up."

"Oh." I say, walking over to the edge of the building, breathing in the cool, windy air, feeling it calm me down a bit. Cinna watches me for a moment, and then speaks.

"You and Katniss did very well out there tonight."

"Thank you." I know we have the Capitol's attention, especially, Katniss. So I'm thankful for what Cinna and Portia gave us.

"And thank you for understanding what I meant. How I wanted you two to hold hands."

"You're welcome."

"So, how well do you know Katniss?"

"Not very well," _I know her well_ I think to myself. _She just didn't know me at all until the reaping_.

"I see. You two would be around the same age?" he asks. I nod as an answer.

"Well, I had just been wondering. How do you like Portia?"

"She's very good. And your costume idea was terrific." I say, glad for the subject change.

"That's good." Just like Portia, Cinna's not what I would've expected. One thing I notice is that he doesn't bring up going into the arena at all. Not my strategy or my skills. This helps, since the Games and the arena just make me more restless. Just then, Portia walks onto the rooftop. "Dinner's almost ready," she says. "We'd better get down there."

I follow Cinna and Portia down the flight of stairs that leads back in, and through to the dining room. We wait on the balcony for Katniss, Effie, and Haymitch to arrive. Katniss and Effie arrive a few minutes later. We all sit down at the table and wait for dinner. Haymitch arrives just as dinner is being served. He's obviously dealt with a prep team of his own because he's clean and groomed and more sober than I've ever seen him. Even though he doesn't turn down the wine, I see him eat for the first time when the soup is served. Maybe he's actually pulling himself together to help us. Cinna and Portia have a civilizing effect on Effie and Haymitch, who address each other decently, which is a big change from how they usually are. They have nothing but praise for our stylists opening act. We all make small talk over dinner. Except Katniss, who has never been one for conversation. I want to start talking to her, but I still don't know what to say to start a conversation with her. So I stay mainly focused on the food. The food is all delicious and still the best things I've ever eaten: mushroom soup, bitter greens with tiny tomatoes, rare roast beef sliced paper-thin, noodles in green sauce, cheese that melts on your tongue with sweet blue grapes. All of our servers are young people dressed in white tunics. I try wine for the first time, since I might not get another chance to try it again. It has a dry, tart taste to it that I only take small sips of. Katniss switches her glass for a glass of water halfway through hers.

The talk has turned to our interview costumes when a girl sets a beautiful cake on the table and deftly lights it on fire. It blazes up then the flames flicker out after a few minutes of burning around the edges.

"What makes it burn?" Katniss asks, with a hint of doubt in her voice. "Is it alcohol?" She looks up at the girl who brought the cake. "That's the last thing I wa- oh! I know you!" The girl's expression turns into one of terror at Katniss's statement, and the entire table goes silent. Katniss has obviously said something very wrong. Confusion and unease begin to appear on Katniss's face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought." Snaps Effie.

"What's an Avox?" she asks, still confused. I understand her confusion, what's so bad about an Avox, whatever that is?

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue, so she can't speak," says Haymitch. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," says Effie. "Of course you don't really know her."

I can see that Katniss still recognizes the girl, despite what Effie said. I can also see her increasing discomfort and the way the adults are all watching her like hawks. I snap my fingers. "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized that she's a dead ringer for Delly." I say to the table, looking over at Katniss.

Delly Cartwright is my friend from school. She and I have been friend since we were young, and she was the first person I could think of, even though the Avox girl looks nothing like Delly. Katniss grasps onto my suggestion. "Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." She says, smoothly.

"Something about the eyes, too," I add. The energy at the table relaxes.

"Oh well, if that's all it is." Says Cinna. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut." He finishes, answering Katniss's original question.

We eat the cake and move into the sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies that's being broadcast. A few of the other couples made a nice impression, but it's still very obvious that we outshine them. Even our party lets out an "Ahh!" as they show us coming out of the remake center.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" asks Haymitch.

"Cinna's" says Portia.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," says Haymitch. "Very nice."

I can see it right away. The other couples stood stiffly apart, not acknowledging their fellow tribute. As if the Games had already begun. Presenting ourselves as friends rather than adversaries had made us stand out like our costumes have.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," says Haymitch to Katniss and me. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

We walk out together down the corridor to our rooms. When we get to Katniss's door, I lean against the frame, not blocking her entrance, but making sure I've got her attention. "So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her look-alike here." I say, asking for an explanation. I can see the deliberation in her eyes, whether she should trust me or not, and whether or not we're being recorded and overheard. I want her to trust me, even if the circumstances almost entirely rule that out, but I can help with the threat of us being overheard. "Have you been on the roof yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though," I can see she gets my hint. We won't be overheard.

"Can we just go up?" she asks.

"Sure, come on," I answer. I lead her to the flight of stairs that leads to the rooftop. We can see the lights of the whole city around us. The cool, night wind blows around us as we walk over to the railing at the edge of the roof. She looks straight down at the streets buzzing with people. I watch her, coming up with something to say.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I say to her.

"What'd he say?"

"You can't," I hold out my hand the way Cinna did and feel it suddenly jerked back after a small zapping noise. "Some kind of electrical field throws you back on the roof." I tell her.

"Always worried about our safety." She says with a bit of irony in her voice. "Do you think they're watching us now?" she asks.

"Maybe. Come see the garden." I lead her over to garden and the wind chimes, knowing that the sound will block out our voices if we speak quietly enough. I look over at Katniss, waiting for her explanation. She examines a blossom while she speaks. "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game." She whispers.

"You and your father?"

"No, my friend Gale. Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her, their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it," She pauses for a moment, "The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard her scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened." She finishes.

"Did they see you?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock," the look on her face tells me she won't tell anymore about that part and I won't push her. I realize that she's trembling from the cold.

"You're shivering," I say. Before she can respond, I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. For a moment, she begins to take a step back, but then she lets me wrap the jacket around her. I may not be able to tell her how I really feel about her, but I can be friendly. A friend would do this, right?

"They were from here?" I ask, while I secure a button around her neck. She nods.

"Where do you suppose they were going?" Since District 12 is pretty much the end of the line, only wilderness and the smoldering remains of District 13 are outside of 12.

"I don't know that." She answers. "Or why they would leave here."

"I'd leave here." I rashly say. I look around nervously, hoping no one heard me. I laugh, "I'd go home if they let me. But you have to admit, the food is prime." I say, hoping that throws anyone who might be listening off my trail, trying to sound more like a scared tribute rather than someone contemplating the unquestionable goodness of the Capitol. "It's getting chilly. We'd better both go in." I say. As we leave, I try to talk to her. "Your friend Gale, he's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I ask.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other." To be honest, I've always been jealous of Gale Hawthorne. Because he can talk to Katniss when I've spent eleven years trying to put together some sort of conversation with her, and because they're almost always seen with each other.

"No, we're not related." She says. I feel my jealousy increase, without my permission. I nod, trying not to let it show on my face. "Did he come say good-bye to you?" I ask.

"Yes," she answers, watching me. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

This surprises me. I know my father had always liked Katniss and her sister, but I'm actually surprised that he went and saw her in the Justice Building. Even though this is news to me, I'm glad he did though. I almost want to tell her how her sister came to me in the Justice Building. But I decide not to.

"Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a house full of boys." I tell Katniss.

This seems to surprise her. She and her sister are talked about by my family every now and then. How well Katniss shoots her game, how sweet her sister is, how polite they both are, how strong Katniss is. I don't contribute too much to these conversations. I've always been worried that I might slip up and show a stronger feeling than what's expected for the person who my father buys game from.

"He knew your mother when they were kids." I tell her. My father had actually once wanted to marry her mother as he once told me.

"Oh yes. She grew up in town," We've reached her door. Katniss hands me back my jacket. "See you in the morning then."

"See you," I answer. I turn and walk back to my room.

My mind is buzzing with the story Katniss told me, and the strange mixture of feelings I felt while talking to her. When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are haunted by the Avox girl as she's dragged away into the hovercraft and silenced forever to be a servant for tributes who will soon die, and me trying to help Katniss while she only glares at me, still seeing me as an enemy.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I wake up to the light of early dawn streaming through my window. My nightmares from the night before have left me damp with sweat. I climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom, being more careful on what buttons I press so that I don't end up being assaulted with that rosy oil again.

When I'm dried off and my hair combed through, I walk out to find an outfit has been left for me in the front of the closet: black pants, a deep red tunic and leather shoes. At least it's something I might normally wear. I look in the mirror and see myself as I would normally look, me just getting ready for a normal day at school or in the bakery. This calms me down a little bit.

I walk out and find Haymitch on my way to the dining room. We arrive to find Katniss already at the table. We bid her good morning and then fill our own plates. I realize as I'm sitting down that Katniss and I are wearing identical outfits. This doesn't really bother me, but I can see that it annoys Katniss. I decide not to ask her why.

After I finish eating I realize how nervous I am about these training sessions. We'll get three days to train before the Games begin. We'll be trained on everything from how to use a weapon to survival skills, and then on the last day, we're given a chance to perform in front of the Gamemakers. There are some tributes, like the Careers or Katniss, who already know how to use a weapon. But unlike the Careers, Katniss also knows survival skills better than any of them would. Just another reason I know she can win.

I still have no idea what my own strategy is. I'm certainly not going to just lie down and wait for someone to kill me. But there's still no way I can win these Games…. But Katniss can…

The thoughts of my strategies and what I'm going to do in the arena begin to spin in my head and I realize I'm not the only one who's nervous. Katniss has begun to turn the roll in her hands over and over while we wait for Haymitch to finish eating. Finally, after several platters of stew, Haymitch takes a long pull from his flask and leans his elbows on the table.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you couch us separately?" Katniss asks.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," he answers. Katniss looks over at me. "I don't have any secret skills." I say matter-of-factly. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." This seems to surprise Katniss a little, but she quickly regains her composure.

"You can coach us together," she says. I nod in agreement.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," says Haymitch.

"I can't do anything." I answer. "Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't. Katniss, I already know you're handy with a knife." Haymitch continues.

"Not really. But I can hunt with a bow and arrow." She answers.

"Are you any good?" he asks. She pauses for a minute, as if she has to think about it. As if she doesn't know how skilled she is. She has to know how skilled of a huntress she is, doesn't she?

"I'm all right." She answers.

"She's excellent," I say without thinking. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." I say. Her surprise quickly turns to suspicion. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"What are _you_ doing?" I ask back. "If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself." I answer simply. This seems to have irritated her. "What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can life hundred pound bags of flour. Tell him that, that's not nothing." She says snappishly.

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena is going to be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't." I snap back, feeling my anger rise. Here she is underrating herself, barely acknowledging her abilities, and then making it sound like my own skills are worth noting; like I'm actual competition.

"He can wrestle." She continues to Haymitch. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say, my anger and frustration rising even higher.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" Her voice is beginning to rise in anger too.

"But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows." Now I'm really angry and the next thing I say comes out without my permission. "You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me. She meant you!"

"Oh, she meant you." Katniss says dismissively.

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.'" I tell her, remembering my mother's last words to me, word-for-word. "'_She_ is," This silences Katniss for a moment. She looks over at me. I know that the pain from that memory of the last time I saw my mother is showing on my face, and she knows I'm telling the truth. Suddenly, her eyes soften, and she looks younger. I'm suddenly reminded of that day I burned the bread for her, when she had been starving to death. She almost sounds younger when she speaks. "But only because I had someone help me." She says softly.

I look down at the roll in her hands and I know we both remember that day. But I only shrug in response. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I tell her truthfully.

"No more than you." She says. I roll my eyes at Haymitch.

"She has no idea. The effect she can have." I look down avoiding their gaze, especially refusing to look at her. She _doesn't_ have any idea of the effect she has on people. And my telling her, when I'd never spoken to her until we were on the train to the Capitol, is not the right thing to be doing. I'm revealing too much in saying it. I keep my eyes down and think about how much she'd noticed about me. About how I'd come in second only to Rye last year, how she's noticed how much I can lift. I've had my reasons for paying attention to her, but why has she paid any attention to me? Considering where we are, that's not a question I want answered. And the way she talked me up, like I was competition. Her lack of skills isn't what might kill her; it's her lack of belief in her own abilities. That's not something I want, since I want her to win these Games, since I certainly won't. Haymitch speaks up, breaking my reverie.

"Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss there's no guarantee they'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares." She says quietly.

"That may be significant in terms of food." He says. "And Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for the both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what your best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?" Katniss and I nod as an answer. "One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute." We both start to object. The last thing I need is to end up revealing more about my feelings than I already seem to have done at the table. But Haymitch slams his hand on the table to quiet us. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training." We leave the table. I see Katniss bite her lip and stalk back toward her room, slamming the door loudly. She's angry. Angry at all of us; at me for something I've done, at Haymitch for making us stick together as if we're friends. I don't want to pretend to be friends in this situation. All it's going to do is backfire once we're in the arena. It's going to be worse for me. Katniss has already accepted that we're going to be enemies, but I can't, and I never will be able to. Even if she has to be the one to send an arrow at me, I'd still refuse to see her as my enemy. There's just too much about her that makes it impossible. My feelings for her, for one, as well as the fact that I know she can win, and I want her to win, to go home to her family that believes in her, that needs her to come home. Maybe I'd be able to sort these things out myself if it weren't for Haymitch's stupid instruction. It seems everything about these Games is here to torment me. My being called in the first place, Katniss being pitted against me, and then Katniss and I being forced to act like friends when she wants nothing to do with me, and if we were anywhere else in the world, I want to be more than her friend.

It's almost ten when I walk down toward the elevators to meet with Effie. Katniss shows up a few moments later, her anger replaced with a nervousness that I can understand. The elevator takes us below ground to the enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Even though it's not ten yet, we're the last ones to arrive. The other tributes are gathered in tense circles. We are each given a cloth number that is pinned to our shirts.

As soon as we join the circle, the head trainer, a tall, athletic woman named Atala steps up and begins to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose per our mentor's instructions. Some of the stations teach survival skills, others fighting techniques. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There are assistants on hand if we want to work with a partner. While she's reading the list of stations, I end up looking around at the other tributes. I'm as big, if not bigger, than most of the boys and almost all the girls. Most of them look underfed. The exceptions are of course the Career tributes, which is the name we've given the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4. They're the ones who volunteer more often (but not always, as Katniss wouldn't be here otherwise), the ones who have trained for these Games, even though that's against the rules, the ones who are more likely to win than most. All of the Career tributes seem to project brutality and arrogance. I realize they're looking over at us, at Katniss, and they show nothing but contempt for her. Maybe it was our stylists' doing that made us outshine them last night, but since our district doesn't usually outshine the Careers like that in anything it might have taken a hit on their pride and their sponsorship possibilities. It's obvious that they plan to wipe her out in the bloodbath if they can. When Atala releases us, the Careers head right for the deadliest looking weapons and handle them easily. I nudge Katniss on the arm, making her jump slightly. "Where would you like to start?" I ask her soberly. She looks around at the various stations. "Suppose we tie some knots." She answers.

"Right you are." I answer. We cross to the empty station where the trainer seems happy just to have us there. After Katniss shows her knowledge about snares, he shows us a simple trap that will have a human competitor dangling by a leg from a tree. We spend the next hour mastering it. Then we move on to camouflage. I quickly learn that I'm actually pretty good at this and find that I'm genuinely enjoying myself. The trainer who runs the station is full of enthusiasm at how I swirl the combination of clay and mud and berry juices. I turn to Katniss. "I do the cakes." I admit to her.

I've been frosting the cakes in the bakery since I was about eight, when my father decided that I was better at making designs in the frosting than he was. It became one of my favorite chores at the bakery, since I could draw pretty much whatever I wanted into the cakes. I also came to like it for another reason. Katniss would bring her sister to the bakery window to look at the cakes on display. Primrose would be the most enthusiastic about the cakes, but it was one of the first times I picked up on something about Katniss herself. How much Katniss loved her sister. How she'd almost always bring her sister to the window whenever they were in town, how Katniss would almost smile a little bit when she was with Primrose, the only time I'd ever see her do that. I never spoke to her when she was at the window, I always looked away when ever she saw me, but I liked seeing her outside of school, with someone she cared about, rather than around people she didn't really know and didn't really talk to. It made me feel like I knew her a little better.

"The cakes?" she asks. I realize that she had been preoccupied with watching the boy from District 2 throw a spear at a dummy, watching it pierce the heart. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," I answer, hoping she remembers. She looks closer at the pattern I've painted on my arm, the alternating pattern of light and dark that I had used to suggest sunlight falling through leaves in the woods. At first, she seems impressed, but then her liking quickly turns to annoyance.

"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." She says bitingly.

"Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-" I say, trying to make a joke.

"Say we move on." She breaks in. Well, that didn't go the way I had hoped.

For the next two days Katniss and I pass quietly from station to station. We pick up some valuable skills, from starting fires to knife throwing, to making shelter. Katniss sweeps the edible plant test easily, and I find that I'm better at hand-to-hand combat than I would've expected. We steer clear of weightlifting and archery though, wanting to save those for the Gamemakers on the final day. The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day to watch us train. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit on elevated stands around the gymnasium, sometime wandering around to watch us, jotting down notes and eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them. They do seem to be keeping an eye on the District 12 tributes. Several times I've seen one of them watching me or Katniss, fixated on us.

While breakfast and dinner are served on our floors, lunch is served in a dining room off the gymnasium. Food is arranged on carts around the room and you serve yourself. The Career tributes gather rowdily around one table, as if showing off the power and superiority in their alliance. They ignore the rest of us, who sit, for the most part, alone at other tables. Katniss and I share a table together, and since Haymitch keeps pestering us about it, we try to keep a friendly conversation going. It's not the easiest thing since talking about home is painful and talking about the present isn't a much better option. I end up talking about the different bread that they serve us during lunch. I tell her about the differences I noticed between the refined bread of the Capitol, the fish-shaped loaf with green tint from the seaweed from District 4, the crescent moon dotted with seeds from District 11, and the drop biscuits that are common at home, along with the various breads from the other districts.

"And there you have it." I finish telling her, putting all the bread back into the basket.

"You certainly know a lot."

"Only about bread." I say. "Okay, now laugh as if I've said something funny." We both give a somewhat convincing laugh that makes some of the others stare at us. We ignore them. "All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk," I can tell that this act is wearing us both out. I may be doing what Haymitch told me to, but every time I have these conversations with Katniss, I can't help but think about what it would've been like if I had been able to approach Katniss at school before the reaping and talk to her, rather than talk to her because someone ordered me to, which only makes this whole thing painful and confusing again.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" she asks.

"No, but it sounds fascinating." I say. And she tells me a story about how she had once daringly challenged a black bear over the rights to a beehive. This is one of the easier parts of these conversations, listening to her. I end up asking her questions out of real curiosity and genuinely laughing, enjoying the feeling for the brief moment it's there.

During the two days we train, I also pay attention to the other tributes, especially the Careers, since they will be the biggest threat to survival. If it weren't for the brutality they're known for and the fact that they seem to have made Katniss something of a target, I'd find a way to ally us with them in the beginning of the Games. But I know Katniss would never go for that and I can guess what her reaction would be if I suggested it. As the days go on, I notice that I'm not the only one paying attention to the competition. I notice the covert glares some of the Careers give Katniss, and I know that they'd never let her in. But the Careers aren't the only ones paying attention to her. On the second day, I notice that the little girl from District 11, Rue as I've heard her be called, has been watching us, sometimes following us to the same station. I point this out to Katniss as she throws a spear. "I think we have a shadow." I say to Katniss. Katniss looks over at her and I see the pained expression on her face. This was the girl that reminded Katniss of her sister. Except unlike her sister, there was no one to take this girl's place when she was called.

"I think her name's Rue," I whisper to her. This makes her bite her lip, as if it reminds her of something just as painful. When she speaks, her voice is harsher than I had expected. "What can we do about it?"

"Nothing to do, just making conversation." I answer back. After this, it seems that Katniss can't ignore Rue. She joins us at different stations sometimes. We learn that she's clever with plants, can climb swiftly, and has good aim, hitting the target every time with a slingshot. But even with all this, I know her chances are lower than mine.

I also end up picking up a few things on some of the other tributes as well. The blonde girl from District 1 seems to have decent range with a bow and arrow, though I know she's nowhere near as good as Katniss is, since I saw her miss the target at least twice from a further distance. The boy from District 2 seems to know how to use every weapon they have in the gymnasium, but seems best with a sword. The girl from 2 is an expert knife thrower that I have yet to see miss. The boy from District 11, Thresh I think is his name, seems to be the strongest tribute of all of us. This is only a part of our competition. It's when I watch the Career pack approach the boy from District 11 and talk to him, that the idea hits me. Katniss may be a target, but I'm like the rest of the tributes here, invisible, beneath their notice. But if I could join them, fool them into thinking that I'm their ally; I could lead them away from Katniss, even if for just a small amount of time. And I'd have access to the supplies in the Cornucopia, so maybe I could help get Katniss a weapon and get a weapon myself…

It might not work, but it's a plan. The best strategy I've come up with so far. I might as well try. I watch as the conversation between the Careers and Thresh seems to sour; Thresh shaking his head angrily and walking away from the knot-tying station. As the second day of training ends, I watch as Katniss goes to the elevators and I walk up to the Career pack.

"What do you want?" the boy from District 2 asks.

"I want to join you. Your alliance, I mean." I say.

"Why should we let you in? What can you do?" says the girl from District 4.

"You wanted someone like Thresh. I may not be as strong as he is, but I'm pretty strong. And I can fight. Especially with a knife."

"He isn't the worst tribute in these Games. So we wouldn't look like idiots taking him on…" says the girl from District 1, considering. She turns to the boy from District 2. "He might be able to help us get to that girl." She says, meaning Katniss.

"But what if she's nothing special? What if she just has a good stylist?" He says.

"I've seen her, she not too bad. Not the best, but still decent, and she could be hiding things."

"I doubt it." Says the boy, arrogantly. Then he turns to me "Is that girl hiding something? Can she do anything special?" he asks.

"Well," I say thinking of a skill. "She can throw knives very well. She has very good aim." This seems to annoy the girl from District 2, the one who never missed with the knives. "Let him in Cato. We can't have two knife throwers in the Games. We might not get as many sponsors. He can help us find her and kill her." She says. This seems to convince the boy, Cato. "All right, fine. He's in." He points to me. "Don't tell anyone you're in, especially not the girl from your district. And don't think we won't kill you first." He turns back to the others. "We're not letting anyone else in. We already let that boy from 3 in and I'm still wondering why we did that and no one else is worth it." They all nod in agreement and turn to leave for the elevators. I make sure I ride in a separate car from them. I'm one of the Careers now. Hopefully the people back home won't hate me once they figure out what I'm trying to do. Hopefully, I'll live long enough to show that, at least to the audience.

Back on the District 12 floor, Haymitch and Effie have spent the two days of training grilling us throughout breakfast and dinner about every moment of the day. What we did, who watched us, and how the other tributes size up. I leave out the part of my allying with the Careers at dinner on the second night; I'll have to tell Haymitch that alone. I had expected Haymitch and Effie to fight during these training days, but they seem to have joined forces for us. Well, at least it helps. I'm more patient with their questioning, listening to their advice when it's given, but Katniss soon becomes fed up and surly. She's definitely not used to taking orders.

When we're finally dismissed for bed on the second night, even my patience has been worn down and I grumble to Katniss, "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink." This makes Katniss laugh for a moment, but then her expression quickly sobers. "Don't. Don't pretend when there's no one around." She says.

"All right, Katniss." I say tiredly, feeling the invisible wall build between us again. After that, we only talk in front of people.

On the third day of training, they start to call us out of lunch for our private training sessions with the Gamemakers. District by district, first the boy then the girl from each. We're slated to go last. We linger in the dining room as we wait to be called. As the room empties, the pressure to keep up a friendly conversation lightens, and by the time they call Rue from District 11, we sit in silence. Katniss seems comfortable with the silence, but I keep trying to think of something to say. Finally, they call my name. I rise from my seat.

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights." she reminds me. The way she says it doesn't sound forced at all, and almost feels like something a friend would say.

"Thanks. I will." I say, and feeling like I should say more, I add, "You… shoot straight." She nods and I walk into the room.

When I walk in, I take in all the equipment and the long table with a feast for the Gamemakers. The Gamemakers, are obviously drunk and only a few pay any attention to me, the others seem to be loudly singing some sort of song. I take a deep breath and begin to lift the weights set up in the room. I lift over one-hundred pounds and begin to throw the weights across the room. I feel foolish randomly throwing objects around and I know I'm not really worth watching either. I just keep throwing them, sometimes getting them pretty far, sometimes getting them only a few feet. One almost lands on my foot, but none of the Gamemakers seem to notice. After about fifteen minutes of this, one of the Gamemakers tells me I can leave and I walk toward the elevators. I leave hoping that I at least get a decent score and that Katniss does better than I did. At least I know she'll have their attention.

Author's Note: So I know it never says when exactly Peeta joined the Careers but I figure it was before the Games because it does say in _Catching Fire_ that the alliance between the Careers and whoever else they add is determined before the Games.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I make my way back to my floor and decide to wait in the sitting room for Katniss. When she walks out of the elevator, she's in tears. We try to call her back to us, but she rushes onward and ignores us, slamming the door and bolting it behind her. I've never seen Katniss cry and right now her tears worry me. What did she do? I know the Gamemakers had been drunk, so maybe she's worried that their ignorance of her would hurt her score, hurting her chances. That's definitely something to worry about. I can hear her muffled sobs coming from her room as Haymitch and Effie knock on her door. After hearing her shout for them to go away, they do.

I spend the next few hours until dinner going over my own private training session with the Gamemakers in my mind, wondering what my score could be. Considering my drunken audience, I'm not sure it's going to be very high. When Effie calls me to dinner, I'm grateful for the distraction.

When I arrive at the table, everyone except Katniss is there, even Cinna and Portia. I take my seat and a moment later Katniss arrives, her face still red and splotchy from crying. The adults begin some chitchat about the weather forecast, but I look over at Katniss, her eyes meeting mine. _What happened?_ I ask silently, hoping she understands me. She only gives her head a small shake. I let my eyes drop after that.

`As they're serving the main course, Haymitch finally speaks. "Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"

"I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me to go." I say, remembering how they ignored me. I glance at Katniss and see that there's some relief on her face. Haymitch turns to Katniss. "And you, sweetheart?" The nickname seems to irritate Katniss and she begins to speak at once. "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."

Everyone stops eating at her comment. "You what?" asks Effie, with a look of horror on her face.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just… I just lost my head, so I shot the apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" she says defiantly. I was wrong, her lack of confidence in her abilities won't get her killed, but her impulsiveness when she's angry might. And while I'm worried about what the Gamemakers might do to her, I can't help but be impressed with what she did.

"And what did they say?" says Cinna carefully.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that." She answers.

"Without being dismissed?" gasps Effie.

"I dismissed myself," she says, and after a moment, her expression changes from one of defiance to one of guilt. After a moment Haymitch speaks again. "Well, that's that," he says, and then he begins to butter a roll.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" she asks.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage,"

"What about my family? Will they punish them?"

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort," Haymitch says. I can see his words are beginning to comfort Katniss. "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena." He finishes.

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I say. _And they've already done that for me now_. I think to myself. "Very true." says Haymitch.

Katniss's face begins to brighten at what he said, his words not only calming her down, but cheering her up. We watch him grab a pork chop with his fingers and dunk it in his wine (which makes Effie unhappy). He rips off a hunk of meat and starts to chuckle. "What were their faces like?" he asks, obviously enjoying the idea of the Gamemakers' attention being demanded this way.

The edges of Katniss's lips tilt up just a little as she answers. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them… One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."

Haymitch guffaws and we all start laughing, except Effie, although she seems to be suppressing a smile. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." She says, and then her eyes dart around as if she's said something outrageous. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to no one in particular.

"I'll get a very bad score," Katniss says.

"Scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy," says Portia.

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I say, voicing my thoughts on what I think my score will be for the first time. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple yards. One almost landed on my foot." I say. Now I know the Gamemakers will forget about me, considering that the girl after me shot an arrow at them. But that's what I had hoped for wasn't it? That they'd pay attention to her? Katniss grins at what I said, looking over at me. She then cuts off a piece of pork and begins to eat. But I'm still focused on the way she grinned at me and the warm feeling in my chest that briefly followed it.

After dinner we go into the sitting room to watch the scores announced on television. First they show a photo of the tribute, then flash their score below it. The other Career tributes naturally get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other tributes average about a five. Surprisingly, Rue from District 11 comes up with a seven. I'm now wondering what she showed the judges. It must have been impressive, considering her size.

District 12 comes up last. I'm surprised again; I end up scoring an eight, so I guess some of the Gamemakers weren't too drunk to notice. Katniss tenses as they show her picture. Then they flash her score. Eleven.

Effie lets out a squeal, and the rest of them are all slapping her on the back and cheering and congratulating her. Her only reaction is confusion. "There must be a mistake," she says. "How… how could that happen?" she asks Haymitch.

"Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," says Cinna, hugging her. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" she asks.

"Of a sort," he answers somewhat mischievously.

Katniss and I congratulate each other, another awkward moment. We've both done well, but what does it mean for us? Especially her, since she's now the highest scoring tribute in these games. I do know one thing, if she wasn't a major target of the Careers, she's a target now. They'd never forgive her for outscoring them. Katniss quickly retreats to bed when the show is over and I soon follow.

For the first time since I arrived at the Capitol, I think of my family, and what they're doing without me. What did they think of my score? Does it help that I now match the score of the average Career? Or do they think I'll be dead by the end of the bloodbath? What will they think when they see me with the Careers? Our district hates the Careers. For their brutality, their dominance in skills and training, and the fact that some of them seem to revel in the Games almost as much as the people of the Capitol do. To keep the people of my district from hating me, they would have to know my real motive. The Careers can't know, but the audience has to. The only opportunity I have left to give the audience some idea of this is the interview in two days…

I wake up early again, another plan in my mind. I get dressed and leave the room, waiting in the sitting room for Haymitch. When he finally comes out of his room, I stand up.

"Morning." Haymitch growls.

"Good morning. Listen, I want to talk about how you're coaching us together…"

"Yeah," he answers, waiting for me to finish.

"I changed my mind. I want us to be coached separately."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then. I'll tell her at breakfast." He says nonchalantly, walking off toward the dining room. I soon follow him, serve myself, and sit down. Effie walks in and sits with us. Haymitch tells her about my desire to be coached separately. She's just asking me why I changed my mind, when Katniss walks in and we all fall silent. She stares at us for a moment, but then shrugs and begins to load a plate with her breakfast. She sits down and begins to eat. None of us talk, and Katniss notices, taking a gulp of orange juice and wiping her mouth.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?" she asks.

"That's right," says Haymitch.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time."

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach." Haymitch says. He looks over at me for a moment, but I look down at the table, strangely feeling like I'm betraying Katniss by asking Haymitch to do this. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the shorter chapter, but chapter nine is almost ready to go and will be posted shortly.

Almost done with part one! Thank you to all who have subscribed so far.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

At first, the look on Katniss's face shows that she definitely feels betrayed. But then her expression changes to one of relief. That should make me feel better, but I still feel guilty.

"Good. So what's the schedule?" she asks without looking at me.

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four hours with me for content," says Haymitch. "You start with Effie, Katniss."

Haymitch starts with me for the next four hours as Katniss trains with Effie in her room. We go to the sitting room, Haymitch taking a seat across from me. There's a silence while Haymitch takes me in, so I decide to speak up.

"I joined the Careers." I say flat out. This surprises Haymitch.

"Did you? Well, that might help in terms of supplies." He says, but I feel the need to say more. "I didn't do it to win. Let's be honest, I'm probably not going to win. Especially with Katniss…" I feel my throat tighten when I say her name, and I fall silent.

"Would you mind explaining what's going on between you two?"

"There's nothing between us." I mumble almost inaudibly.

"Really?" he says in a tone that shows he doesn't believe me at all. "I think anyone paying attention to you at the table three days ago wouldn't think so." I keep silent and look down. There's a silence that seems to press on me more and more until…

"You have feelings for her, don't you?" he asks. I nod as an answer, unable to speak for the moment. I look up at Haymitch, and see that he really feels sorry for me. For the way these Games are, for me especially. If it were anyone else's sympathy, I might not accept it; anyone else wouldn't know what it feels like. But Haymitch does. He's been in these Games before. Only he was lucky enough to survive. After a brief silence, Haymitch speaks again. "I can see that you're likeable, and you have a way with people. You're funny, which could help you gain favor with the audience." I nod at what's he's saying. "I'm guessing you didn't join the Careers because you're funny, though." I shake my head.

"You wanted to help her, if you could." He says.

"Yes." I answer, finally speaking.

"If the people knew what you felt for her, if you said something about it, you'd be unforgettable. And you'd help her, too. You'd make her something desirable, someone to continue sponsoring when you died." Haymitch says, looking at me seriously. I understand what he wants me to do. He wants me to find a way admit what I feel for Katniss on the interviews.

"I'm not making you do that, though, if you don't want to. It's up to you." There's a ring of truth to what he says. He won't pressure me to do this, it's entirely up to me.

"I'll do it. I'll say it at the interview" I say. Haymitch nods at my answer.

"A girl like that will take a lot of convincing though." He says. I nod, knowing that she wouldn't believe me if I said that. It would be difficult to convince her that I don't see her as an enemy, difficult just to convince her that I'm being honest and that this isn't entirely a strategy for the Games. No, the audience will be the easy ones to convince; convincing Katniss will be a whole lot harder.

"At the moment, the audience is who you need to convince. You can start your interview being friendly. I don't think you'll have much of a problem being likable. Save your declaration for the end. It'll have the most effect." Says Haymitch. I agree and I decide to only focus on the strategy part of what I'm about to do, rather than the feelings that go with it, since that only causes, pain, confusion, and a little bit of embarrassment. After we're finished planning out the best way to bring up Katniss, I tell Haymitch not to tell anyone about my alliance with the Careers, especially Katniss.

"Don't worry; I'll let you surprise everyone with that." He says grimly. After that, we spend the rest of the time with Haymitch asking me simple questions and me answering them to practice for the actual interview. By the end of the coaching session we leave for lunch in a pretty good mood. We eat lunch together and switch off, Katniss going with Haymitch, and me going with Effie.

Effie takes me to my room and has me practice walking upright, proper sitting posture, eye contact, hand gestures and smiling. It's all a lot easier than the session with Haymitch (at least emotionally) and by the end of it, Effie is all smiles and praise. I don't take her praise too seriously, since I'm getting praised for walking. But I still thank her to be polite.

I decide to eat dinner alone, so I order dinner from my room and eat there. Today's coaching with Haymitch helped, even if a part of me doesn't like what I'm going to say on camera. If it were up to me, I'd only be telling Katniss, not the entire country with Katniss a few feet from me. But I have a strategy and hopefully it will take me further than day one. And more importantly, I hope it helps Katniss.

The next morning I'm greeted by my prep team. My lessons with Haymitch and Effie are over, this day belongs to Portia. They work on me all morning and into the afternoon, making my skin glow, neatly styling my hair, refining my face with powders (luckily none of them seem to be vibrantly colored). When they're done, Portia comes in with what I assume is my outfit, but I can't see it since it's covered. The prep team turns me away from the mirror and helps me into the outfit. Someone turns me back toward the mirror and I look at myself for the first time. I look striking, my skin tone contrasting slightly with the black suit they've put me in. The flames of my costume from the opening ceremonies have not been entirely abandoned, the flame accents showing prominently against the black fabric. "You look very handsome." Portia tells me.

"Thank you." I tell her quietly.

"You'll do very well out there. I know you'll have their attention." She smiles and gives me a quick hug for luck, which I return. The prep team gets me into my shoes (black leather dress shoes), gives me one quick touch up on my hair and then we leave for the elevators.

Cinna and his prep team lead Katniss from her room toward us at the elevator and I get my first glimpse at her in her interview outfit. Her dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems of red, yellow, and white, with bits of blue gems that tip the flame design they create. Just as with the costume she wore at the opening ceremonies, she has been turned into a creature of flame. She can't be described with any other word but radiant. Her dark hair has been braided down one of her shoulders with strands of red woven into it, her gray eyes demand attention with the way that her lashes throw off bits of light whenever she blinks, and her entire body has been covered in a gold dust that makes her shimmer, further making her appear to be a living flame. It's all I can do not to stare at her as we ride the elevator down to the stage.

All twenty-four of us sit in a big arc around the stage throughout the interviews. I'll be going last, which is good considering what I'm about to say, but not good in the way of nerves leading up to it. Now I'll have to listen to how witty, charming, funny, humble and fierce everyone is and the audience usually starts to get bored about halfway through, like the Gamemakers did. Hopefully, some people will be listening by the time I get up there.

Right before we're paraded to the stage, Haymitch comes up behind us and growls "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it."

This seems to confuse Katniss, but it only reminds me of what I'm going to do, and how I had agreed willingly to do it. My resolve hardens at his reminder and with that, we're lead single file to our seats. As we approach our seats, my heart starts to pound in my chest and I can feel my pulse pounding in my head. It's a relief to get to my seat and I take a few breaths to calm myself.

I look around at the City Circle. Even though evening is falling, the City Circle is brighter than midday. I can see the elevated seating that has been set up for the prestigious guests, including the stylists and mentors, the balcony that the Gamemakers are seated in, and the other balconies that most of the television crews have claimed. The City Circle itself and the avenues feeding into it are completely packed with people, with standing room only. Inside homes and community halls around the country every television is turned on to us. Everyone is watching.

Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for more than forty years bounces onto the stage. In all that time, the only changes he's seemed to have gone through are the changes he does to his hair for each new Hunger Games. But he still wears the same midnight blue suit with tiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars and still has the same face under all that make-up.

For this year, Caesar has dyed his hair a powder blue and given his lips and eyelids the same color. He looks freakish, but not as bad as I've seen him in past years. He tells a few jokes to warm up the audience and then gets right down to business. The girl from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, steps up to join Caesar. It's obvious from the way she's dressed that she's going for sexy as her angle.

Each interview only lasts for three minutes, then a buzzer goes off and the next tribute steps up. One thing about Caesar is that he really does his best to make every tribute shine. He's friendly, setting the nervous tributes at ease; laughs at lame jokes and he can turn a forgettable response into a memorable one just by the way he reacts.

We watch as each of the districts slip by, with everyone playing up some angle. The boy from District 2, Cato, is a monstrous killing machine. The red-haired girl from District 5 is sly and elusive. Before too long, Rue from District 11, dressed in a gossamer gown complete with wings flutters her way to the stage. A hush falls over the crowd as everyone takes in this tiny tribute. Caesar's very kind to her, complimenting her seven in training, an excellent score for one so small. When he asks her what her greatest strength in the arena will be, she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch, and if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out." She says with a brave note in her voice at the end.

"I wouldn't in a million years," says Caesar encouragingly. Then the buzzer goes off and Thresh is up next. He ignores Caesar's attempt at banter and only answers with a yes or no or just remains silent. Soon his interview is over and Katniss is stepping up to take her place on the stage. Now, I'm listening to every word, on edge for both of us.

"So Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" asks Caesar. There's a silence that seems to stretch for a lot longer than a few seconds as Katniss looks out into the audience for a moment, and then speaks. "The lamb stew," she says tremulously. Caesar laughs and the audience joins in. "The one with the dried plums?" he asks. She nods. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." She says. Caesar turns to the audience with a look of horror on his face, hand on his stomach. "It doesn't show does it?" he asks, the audience shouts reassurances and applauds.

"Now, Katniss," He says confidentially. "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" she asks. Big laugh from the audience and I smile at how she has the crowd's attention.

"Yes, start then."

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this either." She lifts her skirt up a little and spreads it out, the gems catching the light. "I mean, look at it!"

The audience _oohs_ and _ahs_ and for a moment Katniss looks out at them, almost as if she's looking out to someone in particular. Then she twirls in a circle once and the reaction is immediate, the crowd goes nuts.

"Oh, do that again!" Says Caesar. She lifts up her arms and spins around and around, making the skirt fly out and making her look as if the flames of her dress are engulfing her. There's no doubt she has their attention now. The audience breaks out into cheers and Katniss stops, clutching Caesar's arm.

"Don't stop!" he says.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" she says, giggling. Caesar wraps a protective arm around her. "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps." He says and the cameras find Haymitch, who is now famous for his head dive at the reaping, and he good-naturedly waves them away and points back to Katniss.

"It's alright, she's safe with me." Caesar reassures the crowd. "So how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint of what happened in there."

Katniss glances up at the balcony and bites her lip. "Um… all I can say, is I think it was a first." She says, the cameras finding the Gamemakers who are chuckling and nodding.

"You're killing us." Says Caesar as if in actual pain. "Details, details."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it right?" she says, addressing the balcony. One of them shouts out "She's not!"

"Thank you." Katniss says. "Sorry. My lips are sealed."

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping." Says Caesar, his mood quieter now. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

Katniss's expression shows the sadness she feels for her sister. The crowd is so silent, you can hear a pin drop when Katniss finally speaks. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?"

"She asked me to try really hard to win."

"And what did you say?" prompts Caesar.

"I swore I would."

"I bet you did," says Caesar, giving her a squeeze. The buzzer goes off. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District 12."

The applause continues long after Katniss takes her seat and I've taken my place at the center of the stage. I take two deep breaths before I go up. Caesar smiles at me and shakes my hand. We wait a few moments until the applause dies down. "So, Peeta what's one of the things that's different for you here in the Capitol than at home?" Caesar asks me. "I'd have to say the food. I didn't know that there were so many different types of bread, and my family owns the bakery." I say, feigning shock, while the audience laughs. "And I've noticed that some of the breads remind me of the tributes here. Is that how it normally is?" Caesar and the rest of the audience laughs some more and I hear a few people in the audience shouting out. Caesar has to compose himself before he continues. "You scored an eight in training, pretty impressive. Were there any perils during training?"

"Not during training, but the showers here are certainly perilous. Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" I ask. He jokingly sniffs me. "No, but you should check for me, I think I might've hit that button, too." We take turns sniffing each other, which has everyone laughing hysterically. Caesar gives the audience a few moments to calm down, and then speaks again. "So, Peeta, back at home, do you have a special someone, a girlfriend, maybe?"

Here it is, my "big moment", and Caesar has already handed the opportunity for me to bring it up. I shake my head after a moment as an answer to his question.

"Handsome lad like you? There must be must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" Says Caesar. Now comes the part where I'm being completely honest. I take a deep breath and sigh.

"Well, there is this one girl. I've have had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." Again, I'm being completely honest. I hear the audience give sounds of sympathy, for at this moment, they can relate to what I feel. But not when I'm done.

"She have another fellow?" asks Caesar. I think of Gale Hawthorne and my answer comes to me.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her." It's true. I've heard many of the boys in our year, boys younger than her, and (the worst part for me) boys older than her talking about her. Katniss does have her fair share of admirers, even if she doesn't really notice.

"So here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then eh?" Caesar says encouragingly. _Oh, Caesar. If only things were that simple. _I think to myself.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning… won't help in my case." I say, real sadness creeping into my voice.

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, mystified.

I feel my face turning red as I finally say what I had meant to say this whole interview. "Because… because… she came here with me."

**Author's Note:** And we have now completed part one! I have chapter 10 ready, and I'll be posting soon. Chapter 11, as long as it's been taking me, I'm now beginning to write and I'll hopefully have it ready in a few days time. Thanks for all the readers and reviews so far. :D


	10. Part Two: Chapter 10

Chapter 10

There's complete silence in the audience as what I've said sinks in. I keep my eyes down, feeling exposed. I look up a moment later to see that the cameras have moved over to Katniss, her mouth half open in surprise, the color in her cheeks rising as what I've said sinks in for her, too. Then she presses her lips together and stares at the floor. I close my eyes for a moment, mortification mixing in with the rest of my jumbled emotions.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," says Caesar and there's a real edge of pain to his voice. The crowd is murmuring their agreement; some have even given agonized cries.

"It's not good," is all I can answer with.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," he says "She didn't know?"

I shake my head. "Not until now."

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asks the audience. _No. I wouldn't._ I think to myself. _Not when she's the hardest person to convince out of everyone. _The crowd screams assent at Caesar's question.

"Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours." The audience is deafening with their cheers. My words have done their job, now I just have to deal with the feeling of exposure- like I've now shown them everything about myself- that goes with what I've said. As the crowd finally settles down, I choke out a quiet "Thank you" and return to my seat. We stand for the anthem, and I see that every screen is now dominated by a shot of Katniss and me, separated by a few feet that can never be breached. I know to the viewers, it's just a tragic form of entertainment. But for me, it's just painful.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators. Katniss avoids my car and heads for a different one. I try not to think about what that might mean. The crowd slows our entourages of stylists and chaperones and mentors, so we only have each other for company. Luckily, none of the Careers are on the elevator with me, so we only ride in silence. My elevator stops to deposit five tributes, and then I'm alone. I'm just stepping off when I see Katniss and she storms toward me, slamming her palms into my chest. Her anger and her attack surprise me and I lose balance, falling backward into an urn filled with fake flowers. The urn tips over and shatters. I fall into the mess and feel shards of pottery cut into my skin, blood immediately flowing from my hands. Seeing Katniss after the interviews, I had expected confusion or embarrassment, or maybe even, as a part of me had hoped, that she would tell me she felt the same way. But I hadn't expected anger from her.

"What was that for?" I ask, aghast.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts at me, her gray eyes now like pieces of steel.

Now the elevators open and our whole crew spills out: Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.

"What's going on?" says Effie, a note of panic in her voice. "Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I say as Effie and Cinna help me up. Haymitch turns on Katniss, "Shoved him?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she says to Haymitch angrily.

"It was my idea," I say, wincing as I pull out a shard of pottery from my hand. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

Now she thinks I made her look like some kind of fool, which wasn't what I had been trying to do all. If anything, I've made myself look like a fool.

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she spits out, even more angrily.

"You _are_ a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" she shouts.

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.

It's in her answer that I feel like a ton of coal just dropped on my chest. Not only is she angry at me, and thinks that I made her look weak (which wasn't what I had been trying to do), but she just doesn't care for me that way. At all. Even with the circumstances of being thrown into the arena tomorrow, I still feel the sting of rejection. But I also feel like the true fool, since I'm the one who announced that I was in love with Katniss on national television. I watch as Haymitch grabs Katniss by the shoulders and pins her against the wall.

"Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself is a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?" says Haymitch.

Katniss shoves his hands off her shoulders and steps away from him. Cinna comes over to Katniss and puts his arm around her. "He's right, Katniss" he tells her.

"I should've been told, so I didn't look so stupid." She says.

"No you're reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real." Says Portia, gently.

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say bitterly, thinking of her friend Gale Hawthorne and how he and Katniss are probably together, probably more than friends, which makes me feel even more like an idiot. I pull out a piece of bloody pottery from my hand and throw it aside.

"I don't have a boyfriend." She says going red.

"Whatever," I say gruffly. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it." _Even if it wasn't a bluff_ I think to myself. "Besides, _you_ didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"

Katniss's anger begins to fade. When she speaks, she's a lot calmer. "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" she asks.

"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush." The others begin to chime in, agreeing with her. Now it's all a tactic. A strategy for the Games.

"You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," says Haymitch. Katniss looks down, embarrassed. Then she looks over at me. "I'm sorry I shoved you." She says.

"Doesn't matter," I say, indifference beginning to color my tone. "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" she asks

"They'll be alright." I answer, letting the silence hang over us. The smells from dinner begin to waft in from the dining room. "Come on, let's eat." Says Haymitch, breaking the silence. We follow him into the dining room and take our places, but then my hands are bleeding too heavily and Portia leads me off for medical treatment. So they start on the soup without us.

Portia and I are perfectly silent while the medic works on my cuts. I think she can tell that I don't really want to talk at the moment, and she stays quiet while the medic wraps bandages around my hands.

We return to dinner just as everyone is finishing the soup. Katniss avoids my eyes guiltily as I sit down. After dinner, we watch the replay of the interviews. Katniss is charming in the way she twirls in her dress, but even I can't deny that my declaration was the highlight of the night, making us both unforgettable, especially Katniss.

When the anthem finishes and the screen goes dark, a hush falls over the room. Tomorrow at dawn, we will be roused and prepared for the arena. The Games don't start until ten, but we'll be made ready to travel to the arena. Haymitch and Effie won't be going with us. As soon as they leave, they'll be going to the Games Headquarters where they'll be signing our sponsor deals for us and working out a strategy for how and when to deliver gifts to us. Portia and Cinna will travel with us to the very spot where we will be launched into the arena. All our good-byes must be said here.

Effie approaches us first, and, with actual tears in her eyes, wishes us well. Thanks us for being the best tributes it has ever been her privilege to sponsor. And, because it's Effie, she adds "I wouldn't be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!" Then she kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out, overcome with either the emotional parting or the possible change in her fortunes. Haymitch comes next, crossing his arms and looking us both over.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask, fully trusting Haymitch now.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance between yourself and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?"

I know his advice is more aimed at Katniss, since he's trying to make sure that Katniss doesn't know I'm with the Careers. But I listen anyway, in case things change.

"And after that?" Katniss asks.

"Stay alive." He tells us, except this time he's not drunk and laughing at us. We only nod. What else is there to say?

As Katniss heads toward her room, I stay behind to talk to Portia. When Katniss's door closes, I begin to speak. "I wanted to say, thank you. For everything you've done."

"You're welcome." She answers smiling. "Good luck tomorrow. I know you'll do well." I nod as an answer.

"You did well out there tonight, too, especially with what you said about Katniss."

"Thank you." I say quietly.

"You should get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Peeta." She says, kissing my cheek the way Effie did. But unlike, Effie, her words actually feel sincere and not selfish to me. I go to my room, take a shower to wash out the powders and hair products, get dressed, and climb into bed. After a few minutes, I realize that I won't be able to fall asleep. Not with my mind buzzing the way it is. Tomorrow the Games will begin. I won't win, but I want to make it past day one. No, I want something more than that when the Games begin. But what? What do I want from this, before I die? The question keeps my mind buzzing for hours until I finally climb out of bed and walk out into the hall. I find my way to the stairs that leads to the roof, glad that it's unlocked.

Just as it did before, the windy air from the top of the tower calms me down. I walk over to the edge and lean as far as I can without being thrown back. I take a deep breath, listening to the commotion going on down in the streets, the honking of car horns, the music, and the singing. _What _do _I want from these Games?_ To prove that I'm strong enough to survive as long as I can? No, that's not what I want. To prove that I'm playing these Games by my own rules? My own terms? Something like that.

A voice speaks from behind me. "You should be getting some sleep." Says Katniss. I start, but don't turn to face her. It's amazing how silently she moved across the tile. I shake my head as my answer to her comment. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all." I say with a hint of irony in my voice. She comes up beside me and leans over the edge of the rail, looking down. "Are they in costumes?" she asks.

"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep either?" I ask.

"Couldn't turn off my mind."

"Thinking about your family?" I guess, figuring that's what she would be thinking about, especially as she's about to face the arena in her sister's place.

"No," she admits guiltily. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She pauses for a moment, looking at my hands. "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss. I've never been a contender in these Games anyway." I tell her, finally speaking the truth to her.

"That's no way to be thinking." she says.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and…" I hesitate.

"And what?" she asks.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only…" I think for a moment. "I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" She shakes her head as an answer. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." I confess to her. Katniss bites her lip for a moment, and then speaks. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" she asks.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…" the right words finally come to me as I say them. "To show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

"But you're not." She says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I insist, hoping she understands me, that I'm not just wasting my breath. "Don't you see?" I ask.

"A little. Only… no offense, but who cares, Peeta?" she says. She doesn't get it, she doesn't see, and my frustration builds.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask angrily. I look straight into her silvery-gray eyes, demanding an answer. She takes a step back from me before she speaks. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive."

This is exactly the answer I didn't want to hear. I smile sadly at her, with a little bit of mockery mixing into my sadness.

"Okay, thanks for the tip, sweetheart." I say, using Haymitch's nickname for her.

The anger and hurt in her expression, like she'd just been slapped in the face, is obvious. "Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve." She says angrily.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do. Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?" I say bitingly.

"Count on it." She spits back. She turns and heads back toward the door to our floor below. I let her go, still frustrated with her.

She doesn't get it, she doesn't _see_ it. All she wants is to make it home. I want her to make it home too, because she's a tribute who's actually stood a chance in these Games. She'll live and make it home, and she won't even know that I was telling the truth about how I felt, and she doesn't understand me now, my refusal to be a piece in the Capitol's sick Games. I won't let them turn me into some kind of monster in there. But what if Katniss turns into that? What if her indifference now turns her into something as bloodthirsty as any Career? _No, she won't_ I say to myself. _She volunteered for Prim. She has people she cares about, people she loves. She won't turn into a monster with them watching_.

I think about how I told Katniss how I wanted to die as myself. How I wasn't going to be a Capitol pawn. So far, I've done the best I could with what I've been given. Haven't I accepted that I won't win? Given as much as I can to help Katniss, who can win? That's something the Capitol wouldn't want, a tribute trying to help another tribute over himself. The Capitol wants the tributes to think only of themselves and their survival, even if they know that a tribute won't make it. That's what makes the Games entertaining for them, watching tributes like me try and fail. I've done everything I could, now I just have to see how it all plays out tomorrow in the arena. Finally, I turn back and leave the roof for bed.

In the morning, I don't see Katniss. Portia comes to me before dawn, gives me a simple outfit to wear and guides me to the roof. My final dressing and preparations will be alone in the catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears and a ladder drops down at my feet. I place my hands on the lower rung and grip the upper rungs, feeling a current freeze my body as the ladder pulls me up. The ladder doesn't release me when I'm inside the hovercraft. Instead, a man in a white coat approaches me with a syringe. "This is just your tracker, Peeta. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it." He tells me calmly. _Still? I can't even move_. I think, as he sticks the needle inside my arm and inserts the metal tracking device deep under the skin of my forearm. I may be frozen, but that doesn't stop the stab of pain when he inserts the tracker into my arm. Now the Gamemakers will always know where I am throughout the entire Games.

When the tracker is in place, the man disappears, the ladder releases me, and Portia is lifted in from the roof. A blonde Avox girl leads us to where breakfast has been laid out. As nervous as I am, I eat as much as I can. Who knows the next time I'll be able to get food? If I'm even alive to see more food.

We fly over the city into the wilderness beyond. I watch as it all disappears under me and the arena draws closer. The ride lasts about a half an hour before the windows black out, suggesting that we're nearing the arena. The hovercraft lands and we go back to the ladder. This time, the ladder leads down into a tube underground, into the catacombs that lie beneath the arena. We're lead into my chamber for my final preparations. In the Capitol, this part of the arena is called the Launch Room. Back in District 12, we call it the Stockyard, the place where animals are slaughtered. Everything here is brand-new and I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. After that, this arena will become a historic site, preserved after the Games for Capitol citizens to have as a vacation spot.

I shower and clean my teeth, Portia fixes my hair so it's out of my face, and then the clothes arrive, the same for all tributes. Portia had no say in the outfit, she doesn't even know what's in the package, but she helps me get dressed. The outfit consists of a light green shirt, simple tawny pants, a sturdy brown belt, and a simple hooded black jacket.

"The jacket will reflect body heat, so expect some cold nights." Portia tells me. Then she helps me put on my shoes, soft leather boots worn over skintight socks. The shoes are comfortable enough. Portia has me test everything out; making sure it all fits comfortably. "Good. It fits perfectly." She says.

"There's nothing to do but wait now." I say to her, sitting down.

"Do you think you can eat anymore?" she asks. I shake my head, but accept a glass of water, gulping the whole thing down nervously and asking for more.

My nervousness turns into flat-out fear as I think about what's to come. I could very well be dead by the end of the day, maybe sooner. If the Careers decide they don't need me to find Katniss, if some lucky non-Career kills me in the bloodbath. Various scenarios of my death play out in my head, increasing the tension in my chest. Portia is the one to break the silence.

"Do want to talk?" she asks worriedly. I shake my head, but she holds out her hand to me. I take it, accepting her comfort, which feels genuine, coming from her. We're sitting like this when a cool female voice announces that it's time to prepare for launch.

Still clinging to Portia's hand, we walk over to the circular metal plate. "Be careful out there." Portia tells me. I nod as my answer, afraid my voice might crack if I speak. "I believe in you, Peeta. I know you're strong enough to make it." She says, giving my hand a squeeze. As much as I've accepted that I'm going to die, very soon, in this arena, her words are still comforting, helping ease some of the tension in my chest. "Thank you." I tell her softly.

"Good luck, Peeta." She tells me and she kisses me one last time on the cheek.

The glass cylinder begins to fall between us, breaking our handhold and separating us. Portia smiles at me through glass. I take two deep breaths as the metal plate begins to rise, pushing me out of the cylinder, out into the open air. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the sunlight and I feel the strong wind and smell the scent of pine trees off in the distance.

Then the voice of the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, booms all around the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

**Author's note:** So, I know I've been going a little crazy with the Author's Note's, but this is my last one for awhile. So this is the end of the line for the chapter's I've written so far. Going through all of this and posting it has gotten me back into the swing of things and I hope to have chapter 11 up very very soon. A few days tops. Thank you so much for all of the comments and read. It's very much appreciated. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sixty seconds. That's how long we're required to stand on our plates until the gong releases us. Step off before the minute is up and mines are detonated, blowing off your legs. Sixty seconds is all we get to take in our surroundings; the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn with a curved tail in the center of the arena, and the twenty-four tributes equidistant from it. The Cornucopia is spilling over with things that will give us life here in the arena: food, weapons, containers of water, medicine, fire starters, garments, shelter, sleeping bags. The value of each of these things decreases as the distance from the Cornucopia increases. In front of me is a packet of crackers, a few feet from there, a small water skin. We're on a flat, open stretch of ground, a forest in one direction, a field in another. A lake lies not too far from the Cornucopia.

In the center of the pile of weapons at the mouth of the Cornucopia, I see a silver bow and a quiver of arrows. I know that was left for Katniss. I look around at the other competitors, recognizing the Careers, and about five tributes from me, I see Katniss. I can see her eying the bow and arrow, debating whether or not to run in for it. _No! _I shout at her in my mind. I begin to shake my head desperately, hoping she sees me. Katniss just looks at me, puzzled, as the gong rings out.

I look away from Katniss, hoping she's decided to run. I run forward and grab the nearest knife, ignoring the camp supplies for the moment. I see the Careers also have used the same strategy. They run for the nearest weapons and begin to attack. My mind seems to be working ten times faster than usual. I look over and see Katniss struggling over an orange backpack with the boy from District 9. Suddenly, I see a knife pierce the boy's back, killing him. I see the girl from District 2 a few feet from them, grabbing as second knife. Katniss picks up the backpack and begins to sprint. The girl from District 2 throws the knife, but Katniss lifts the backpack, shielding her head, and continues running into the forest, out of sight in moments. All of it taking place within the first few minutes of the bloodbath. Katniss is safe, but I'm still in the thick of things. I get a firmer grip on my knife and move a few feet inward.

A boy about a head shorter than me, from District 7, comes at me with knife. I can see the terror in his eyes, but I know that he intends to kill me. I dodge his knife, the blade only grazing my arm, and stab him quickly and he slumps over, dead. I take his knife, before someone else does.

I keep a close watch on my surroundings as I move in closer to the Cornucopia. It's brutal. Dead tributes lie scattered around the plain, blood soaking the dirt. I'm almost to the mouth of the Cornucopia when the girl from District 2 jumps behind me, killing a tribute who had been about to stab me in the shoulder, the girl from District 10.

"Watch yourself, Lover Boy." She says, taking the girl's knife. I nod as she moves on to another target, the boy from District 5. I walk inward, stopping a few feet from the mouth of the Cornucopia, turning my back to the opening. I'm about to grab the spear at my feet when someone knocks me to the ground. I look up just in time to see my attacker, the boy from District 8. He pounces on me and begins punching me as hard as he can in as many places as he can find. Just when he's about to throw another punch, I pull out the knife I'm holding and stab him just under the arm. He slumps over, bleeding as I push him off me. I stand up and grab the knife next to him, not sure if I can make myself pull out the one under his arm. At least when they take his body, they'll take the knife.

I look around at the field in front of me. I count ten dead bodies just as the girl from District 2 throws a knife at the girl from District 7 and she falls over, dead. Eleven dead. A boy walks into the Cornucopia with a spear. He's from District 3. He points his spear at me, I tense, ready to dodge. The girl from District 4 walks by us.

"Mack, leave him alone. He's one of us." He nods, lowering the spear. She turns to me. "There's no one except us now." I nod and I see the boy from District 3, Mack, walk into the Cornucopia. I walk past the mouth of the Cornucopia, forcing my mind to only focus on the scattered supplies and not the dead bodies lying around. I pick up another knife lying at my feet. Just then, the girl from District 2 approaches me. "That's mine, Lover Boy." She says sharply, snatching the knife from me. "Here, you can have this," she says, tossing me a spear. I catch it with one hand and slip my other knife into my belt. She looks at me shrewdly. I raise my empty hand in an innocent gesture. "It's what I'm best with, so just the one knife?" I ask. She purses her lips and stalks off toward Cato. I turn to the girl from District 4.

"How many of us are there?" I ask.

"Seven. Glimmer and Marvel from District One, Cato and Clove from District 2, Mack from Three, Me, and you. Halleck, the boy from my district's dead." She says with no emotion appearing on her face. I look over at Glimmer and Marvel and see them beginning to stack up the supplies in a pyramid. Marvel sees us and waves us over. "Nixie. Lover Boy. Get over here! Help us stack these up." I guess I have a new nickname. Marvel shouts over to the Cornucopia where Mack is, calling for his help too. While we work on stacking the supplies, Nixie and Mack begin to fill us in on who got away from the bloodbath.

"I saw the girl from Five get out. She ran out into the forest." Says Mack.

"And the girl from Eight and the girl from Eleven ran out into the forest too." Nixie tells us. "The boy from Eleven ran out into that field over there." Nixie adds, pointing over toward the field.

"And the girl from Twelve, I saw her run into the forest." Mack finishes. At that moment, Cato and Clove have joined us, just as we're finished building the pyramid of supplies.

"That's who we're going to be looking for, that girl from Twelve. If we run into anyone else, we kill them too." Cato says in a commanding voice. "Luckily, we've got Lover Boy here to help us track her down." Cato looks over at me; I nod in response, keeping my face blank. He nods back. "Patch yourselves up and get ready to go." He turns to Mack. "Except you. Get started on your little project." Mack nods and heads over to one of the old plates, crouching over it, studying it.

As we set up our base camp, the hovercraft appears, collecting the eleven bodies around the Cornucopia. When the last body is lifted up, the canons begin to sound, one for each dead tribute. The bloodbath is officially over. Now that the bloodbath is over and the adrenaline has left my body, the pain from the wounds I got in the fight seems to double. The cut on my arm still oozes blood and I clean and bandage it for good measure. My ankle feels sore from when the boy from District 8 knocked me over, having twisted my ankle a bit in the process, and I have a slight limp now. Hopefully that goes away soon. I feel my face starting to swell from bruises (left from my fight with the boy from eight). Too bad we don't have ice to reduce the swelling. So at the moment, I'm not in the best shape. But I'm still alive. The realization of this sinks in… _I'm still alive_. And Katniss is still alive as well. I don't know where the road ends for me, but I've made it this far.

We eat and drink our fill and begin to pack our supplies and weapons to take with us. I'm given a spear, an extra spearhead, and I'm allowed to keep my knife. I'm also given a full water bottle, a pair of gloves, a torch for when the sun sets, and a small pack that includes matches, a bottle of iodine, and a roll of linen for bandages. Marvel arms himself with a spear and a few extra spearheads. Glimmer takes the bow and arrows. Cato arms himself with a sword and a knife that Clove gives him. Clove lines her jacket with at least twelve knives. Nixie grabs an axe and a spiked club. Mack arms himself to the teeth, with a spear, two spear heads, two knives and an axe. Cato warns him that he'll only get to keep the spear when we come back. Mack only nods at this, continuing his work around the tributes' starting plates.

We decide to head out into the forest where most of the tributes who escaped ran off. We begin walking in the late afternoon, walking through the forest as the sun sinks lower in the sky. We don't find anyone by the time the sun finally sets and night makes its chilly arrival. We light torches as the anthem of Panem plays, the seal shining in the sky, preceding the death recap.

Here in the arena, we only see the picture of the dead tribute in the sky and their district number. Back at home, the audience sees full coverage of each killing. We're only shown the pictures so that we don't have an unfair advantage over another tribute. The seal disappears and the face of the girl from District 3 appears, followed by the boy from District 4, Halleck, the boy from District 5, both the tributes from District 6, both from 7, the boy from 8, both from 9, and the girl from 10. The Capitol seal is back with a final musical flourish in the anthem. Then darkness and the sounds of the forest resume. I look down, realizing that I was the only one paying attention to the sky. The other Careers are busying themselves with their weapons and supplies, not showing the slightest interest in the dead tributes. I quickly look down and follow suit. Once our torches are lit, we continue on into the forest.

About an hour after midnight, I spot it, a small wire trap in a bush. I remember Katniss's skill in building traps back in training. This is obviously one of hers. She could be close by us… I quickly look away from the trap, making sure none of the other Careers noticed it.

That's when we see it, the smoke and faint orange light of a fire not too far away from us. I know it's not Katniss. Whoever built this fire couldn't handle the cold and didn't think we'd be combing the forest searching for stray tributes. I know Katniss would've thought of the Careers hunting and would not have lit a fire, even if it meant sticking out in the cold until morning.

The rest of the Careers run forward toward the fire. We find her under a willow tree, drifting off to sleep. She wakes up when she hears our footsteps. Cato steps forward the rest of us surrounding her. She begins to plead with him, begging him to let her go. His only response is that he takes out his sword and stabs her in the stomach. She lets out an agonized scream, and he twists the blade a little bit, leering at her. The rest of the Careers laugh as she slumps over, bleeding. They clap and congratulate Cato. I clap too, but only to keep from arousing suspicion. Marvel cries out "Twelve down and eleven to go!" he shouts, which gets a round of appreciative hooting. Glimmer and Nixie check the girl for supplies, but only find an empty water skin and a loaf of bread.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." Says Cato. We begin to walk away from the girl, moving through the other willows. We stop about ten feet from another tree. Inside the tree, I spot a dark mass that is not part of the willow's branches. Through the leaves I make out a form hanging upside down, clinging to the tree with their legs. At the bottom of it, I can just make out a long thin rope, like a braid, hanging toward the ground. I look away and keep silent, hoping they didn't spot her. I look over at the others and see that their minds are elsewhere.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" says Glimmer.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately." Says Nixie.

"Unless she isn't dead." Says Marvel.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself." Says Cato.

"Then where's the cannon?" asks Glimmer.

"Someone should go back, make sure the job's done." Nixie suggests.

"Yeah we don't want to have to track her down twice." Says Marvel.

"I said she's dead!" Cato yells, looking lividly at Marvel.

Marvel and Cato begin to fight, Glimmer taking Marvel's side and Clove taking Cato's side. I finally shout out, silencing the others.

"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" I say impatiently.

As I turn, I see the dark mass in the willow tree quiver slightly. I walk away hoping she has the sense to stay quiet, because I know she now recognizes me among the other Careers.


End file.
